New And Old Window Poem by Musfiq us shaleheen

I left those faces and trees there with
My springtime that burning sometimes
I paint that on canvas when river
Flows without chime but a murmur

Once she was mine but can’t think now
Trees become old and never conceived
But wind flows through south again and again
In my window new faces appeared and called me
Again and Again-

Not a common face there but it caught me a little
Again I went there and played with them
When she was crossing over the road and
I was standing on the opposite traffic signal