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At the very end.


I was sitting on the cemented wall, painted white and dirtied brown.
I had a friend by my side, but nothing to talk.
I was staring into the clear blue sky, down to the muddy floor without anything to do,
when I saw her shed the golden shower.

She was a little far away from where I was,
I pointed her to my friend but she wasn't observant,
She stood there strong without any nerves,
she was opaque and a true lover of the sun,

she shed out the shower of gold with astounding grace,
They were falling down one by one and altogether,
they danced happily while having their fall,
to be fossilised into the soil, to be stamped dead by the passersby

Bliss and peace filled into their moves,
which stirred the air with twirls and waves,
they gleamed gold, red and green,
they twirled round and round towards their fairy feme.

They were all over the air, filling the place with their amusing embrace,
some of the yellowed clinged to her arms, unwilling to let go,
and finally each one had to, whether green or gold they appeared to be,
they had to groove with the breeze and land onto their graves.

I slowly closed my eyes, unwilling to take the beauty off my sight,
I related what I saw to my life.
A winner or loser or an exraordinary being,
how much ever I work hard to live up to my dreams,
how much ever I desire to live or how many ever money I make,
It all doesn't matter at the very end,
I must fall as the yellowed leaves,
but not with regret or guilt,
but as happy and blissful they were when they had their fall. 

Comments

  1. beautiful poem Gayathree..

    I must fall as the yellowed leaves,
    but not with regret or guilt,
    but as happy and blissful they were when they had their fall.

    loved the way you concluded it..

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ah, what a lovely metaphor of life via the tree. The bitter truth so beautifully expressed.

    Thanks for this treat, dear G.

    Joy always,
    Susan

    ReplyDelete
  3. Thank you for reading Susan :) Death is never bitter, it is a process of human life just like birth and living. Death is also a pleasure like the other two processes in human life :)

    ReplyDelete
  4. You have a special gift for writing poetry. This is evident from this post. How wonderfully have you narrated the circle of life, birth and death through the life of a tree. This is pure magic. Keep them coming, poetess!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks a lot Sowmya. You are very considerate enough to read. :)

      Delete

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