My Lovely Neem Tree

Crawling beneath thy graceful shadows,

I loved sleeping below thy branches.

I knew to climb up thy branches with all my friends

and plucked your leaves without your permission.

I love to live with thy breath of Nature.

Nature nurtures you and me.

I live with all those nostalgic traces of my childhood.

Neither do I see anyone climbing up to play or pluck thy leaves.

They seem to be cruel and selfish.

Brutish Thoughts finish their existence.

I see those Cains felling trees for no reason.

Alas! The City was built by Cain, as we all know.

Our World is full of Godses and Hitlers;

Cains and Judases fill all sorts of absence of innocence.

I remain with myself but not willing to change for the sake of anything.

I am cautioned by the History of Our Patriots.

I speak in silence with my pen

The snowy flakes fall upon my tulips and kiss them for a blissful morning.

Thy fusion of rays and dews massage the feathery fondness of her petals.

Rose, Rose but fainted in fragrance of her smile.

Limited my nothingness in words, she called me a poet.

The sun dries thy frost and flicks thy fibre.

My bosom is benign with motherly kindness.

Her smile sinks in my heart as bliss,

but tossed out many at times with my innocence

I am yet to discover my seclusion in meditative silence.

Showers of Grace call my heart to ooze out this blood of passion

Sculpt in my verbal images of love echoing for ever.

Pleasant carpets of magic welcome my vista...

Implying think-tanks creech below cronies and ghosts of their ego.

Trained to think on the footsteps of tradition and lost sometimes,

in a sudden season of bubbles of wayside wisdom.

I speak in silence with my pen.