Photo Courtesy : Me, myself and Himanshu [I clicked it...grrrr..!]
through the hills
under the lush green canopies
a light wind blows
carrying sounds profound
chilly at times
with the dry leaves in a vortex
crumpling under its force
the memories of yore
they have tales to tell
into the unknown
before they soar
warm at times
dry n scalding
punishing one and all
reminding of the crimes
tortures forsaken
made to self and others
the vows broken
and then it stops
vanishing in the hills
below those canopies
that are almost brown now
weathering the cold and dry
still standing there though
reminding the wind
that it also has limits
unseen forces
control its existence
A unknown act of good riddance
Nice picture.. and lovely poem.. At times nature can best reflect our thoughts.. :)
ReplyDeleteawesomeness :) and lovely picture as well :)
ReplyDeleteEver realised that the typography of your poem actually suggests the tone? Hi-low, low-high?
ReplyDelete