Old Love Street Poem by Tenzing Palyon

The roads look fresh and unendingly long,
Cooler the wind and its fragrance strong.
Back to Wordsworth age I belong,
Where nature was praised with natural song.

The skies rule above our million heads
and season weaves its seasonal threads,
within us like a weaver,
So skilfully old.
The fumes of summer, the joy of spring,
The fall of autumn, after monsoon begins,
ending with the silence of the cold.

Love has wit, but lovers remain fools,
when the mind is threatened by hearted rule.
Just like season with four changing parts,
affecting and inflicting all ages of heart.
Its best described in the pages of art,
when read with aspiring breath,
if followed it pierces like vicious dart,
ultimately leading to living death.

I get my senses with a blow of breeze,
was lost in thoughts but now am eased.
Ohh! ! ! these winds make me travel back to the streets,
Of Old love's lane which has been ceased.
I walked that way in the garden of my memories,
Now a grey heath, my amorous cemetery.