Isn’t that a lovely scene?
That of a landscape? A picture ? Or that of weather?
That can’t be behold in,
The camera of eyes that is aging.
The foggy sky across the skyscrapers,
Dews making merry on the tree branches,
Yellow flowers piggybacking on green leaves.
A narrow lane sparse with bypassers,
Birds flying out of their nests from trees,
Chirping of birds mixed with,
Rumbles of buses plying across.
And lo! The sun also wants to be part of this ,
Adding his splash with his ambassadors.
And me, sitting across the window sill,
Confronting with nature,
In as yet slow pace of life,
Knowing fully well that it won’t last for long.
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