you read
a book. Engrossed.
the stories there
entwine. Lost
and then you
cope up. Until
You recover back
to the train
station where
Everything began.
what you missed
was simple enough.
how the wind
tries to catch
a falling leaf.
how the leaf
reached the grass
and then
Like all of us
Are lost. And no
One bothers. As
all are engrossed
In books. In twisted
stories.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem