The green moist grass under my feet,
That’s the quickest second I felt,
What touching the sky would mean.
Perhaps the most beautiful expression,
The gigantic rivers, seas, oceans,
And pearls of dew, drop, mist.
I put my palm on the damp branch,
Breathing years after dry months.
Had a far-off stare at a bunch of roses,
Each leaf with different mirrors,
The noise destroys the frame,
Silent gaze is needed for them.
The soil is darker and stronger,
With the thrust of rain it had yesterday.
Some overflowing passengers board a lake,
The drizzled, the frozen, the chilled –
Eyes were a cloud,
And tears forced life to the garden.
Saharanpur, Uttar Pradesh