The leaves in the forest are auburn,
ready to play their hysteric charm against the pale sky,
each leaf is carefully plucked,
like a belief,
then sewed against the path.
They lie with wise foreheads
to be touched by hurried footsteps.
At night the voluminous heap of leaves
resemble graves of many that lie
close against each other,
licking wounds silently.
Some sail…
midnight
narcissus in air
gardens bloom
If ever you had walked
an autumn forest at night,
If you had wept silently
by the solidified water of the lake,
If ever you had looked into the eye
of a desperate bird willing to remember
his home coming song,
If ever you had seen the cage of a bird hung open,
If ever the crunching of the leaves under your feet
seemed music to your ears, If ever you had missed the fire
in a firefly’s body,
If ever you had seen a stag
with bold eyes staring at the broad sky.
If you had/have –
spots of sunshine
at my fingers tips
look
~Ritamvara Bhattacharya
India
Clear view mirror, the poem…
Thank you so much