Someone is coming?
Usual game of the dead leaves.
I fumble and laugh...
Now no one is there around me.
My own footsteps on dry leaves
and I imagine someone is there
following...
So quite around
and I play the game with these
dead leaves.
The tree quietly watch
me at this usual game.
How long this game will last?
I look up at the tree
holding all changing seasons.
It's warmth touch me
and keep the game on...
Who is coming?
The soft crushing sound
keep me at this game of longing.
No one is there to watch
the usual game and
I don't want move off the shadow.
The tree showers dry leaves
all over me and I
get lost in this usual game.
Well expressed thoughts and feelings. An insightful creation nicely brought forth with conviction. Thanks for sharing, Prabhakar.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A beautiful poem on how you enjoyed walking on dead leaves. Sometimes one feels to be alone. To be with nature, to watch nature as it changes its colours and vives. You have finished the poem in a very nice way. Thanks for sharing.