The Garden Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

When lilies and roses spread their
Wings like sparrows the old sunflowers
Turn their heads towards the sun;

Pigeons coo inside their cotes
Like a shepherd playing its flute
And a bumblebee weeping in seclusion

Serrated leaves of the aged trees
Fall on the ground to make a bed
For retired men to lay and snore
Their sticks with serpent heads keep
A watch on them

Sun goes down like a bloody eye
Sparrows shed plumes over wrinkled faces
Pigeon stop cooing
Bony feet are pricked by blades of grasses
Dusk is reflected in their small faces