The yellowing leaves scattered in the ground
Talk of times which made it's way into past
The dampened leaves give away a pungent smell
A smell of decay, a smell enough to rot memories
Memories! Do we ever burry them?
One scratch in the wind can bring in memories roaring
The more you distance yourself, the more it tears you apart
Just like a sore wound, it inflicts despair.
The greasy soil underneath your heavy boots
Looses hope each time you trample it
But, come autumn, the soil gets a makeover
Leaves: yellow, brown, withering to its bossom
The world looks robbed but the soil leases life.
A poet may love spring, but a decaying heart sings for those scattered pieces of leaves mingling in the soil,
For what is dead can make things alive.
"I want to see a setting sun", I told him as we sat in the shack looking at the bright sun gleaming over the waves. "Sure, let's not move anywhere", he readily jumped over the idea. We talked about everything that we had anticipated all along, this trip, our future together, family back home as we nonchalantly waited for the sun to set. It was only when the waiter brought a lamp to our side when I noticed that we had missed the whole idea of viewing the sunset! "Phew! I don't see the sun", I yelled out alarmed "laa", I heard him say. " Well, isn't it good that we can again come back tomorrow and sit in the same spot waiting for the sun to set", he remarked. Well, this is what I like about him. His ability to look at the positive side of life. Well, if not a sunset, we saw a pale moon's silvery gleam over those tall waves. We laughed and talked over endless cups of tea and food. While it was time to leave the shore, we di...
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