Strolling In The Woods Poem by Sunil Shandilya

A certain awe, of greens,
of all its shades and hues
Henna being poured mother,
all the reds, crimson, brown, Losing its colour.
Forgotten, the blisters beneath that asphalt
A path not so swerve, green velvet, no curve
I see you shine mother, in this outcast
For i cannot see the sun, but its reminiscent
Wait o wait little lad, for the new advent
Breeze nurtured to a gale,
Brush past monoliths, boat's wale
Sound of love that shalt make,
Raw, echoing, embracing, uprooting, uplifting
Lying aloof with the the twigs
Shall i be carried away,
Or wait another season?