Crystals

There were times when
I used to find nature selfish
Because it was seasonal;
And not like poetry that comes
Even in the outrageous summers or rusty winters
Or catalytic rains.

Its been long
Where Memories have flooded down
Many a prayers
That had names of us and verses.

I still stand under that pine
Where words used to come to me
Like soft breeze that blows within,
For inspirations better lived with you.

Today this pauper poet awaits them
And the pine leaves fall as if gifting me
A silent poetry of yours, in rhythm.

I still search for those crystals that
My palms had soaked thence.

The color of blood was faded that day.

SoUmY@