that innocent boy
got scratched,
fooling around an old rusty knife

that careless man
punctured his heart,
toying a young bud with wild thorn

and me, what a shame!
got badly wounded,
by the delicate petals
of prettiest flower in the town.

for days you trail through the depths of the forest
and as you step out on the other side,
finally off its shadow
you feel an unknown urge, to turn back, for a one last look.

and in that very moment, for the first time
you feel the whole forest, with its all might, vastness and mystery
rushing through you, filling your heart with senses never known
and it only stops, when it finds it's way, through your tear drops.

you know, after the last line
looking back at a poem, does with me the same.

my restraint, may seem like an impregnable enemy line
but when your love blooms and wind sniffs the wound of your heart,
let the fragrance sneak in and cut me like an elvish sword.

after a while, the door sensed
that it's left to itself now
to figure out whether to remain open or be closed.
this sudden realization,
made it very uncomfortable.

from the moment she walked out of that door,
everyone in the house, had the same strange feeling.

let’s get ready dear,
it’s your first day at school
and you don’t want to be late? do you?

this was when, I lost my childhood
as I accidentally acquired sense of time.

on some benches, people never sat
on some there was always someone.

on some branches, birds never rested
on some there was always a one.

don’t worry my boy,
life is not a bench or a branch
but a park and a tree.

We look at the world once, in childhood.
The rest is memory.