by Avijit Roy
The tall monumental heavy in growth, the banyan,
Cast its Grandame shadows, like heaven's hands;
Blessing on some flowery dale lying below.
Musing I stood o'er pleasure's corpse,
Buried at the root, in mute tawny shroud,
Of joys once shared, pains overbears proud,
Where ancient memories claw at existence's glass,
Afeared to lose those dreamy paths,
That leads to the avenue of twenty last.
Beady smile of dew cradling on leaves I'm Morrow's,
Where dusk mingles with notes of eve-sparrows,
Sorrowing over the eclipse of their darkling mates,
Weave feathery elegies in calm surging abreast.
Under such hermit's sheltering boughs,
Often in filtering summer the bovine mows,
Release soil's breast of its grassy growth.
The silent steps of butterfly quakes a move,
On velvety flesh of petals and leaves.
I leave the shadow in careless measure,
Back in the womb where I grew in pleasure.
There to embrace the suns to come,
With pains of loss dug afirm,
In tears and smiles,
That betrayed all eyes.
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