In thy old garden the old tree had withered!
Thou wert running on the road like a drifted ship,
Yea, Thy old grandma had gone to eternal sleep,
Thy clothes been sprinkled with her red blood,
I saw thee with wings bruised like a wounded bird,
The passers-by had not turned their hearts towards thee,
It was at morning around six; the sun rising as usual,
Yet it had seemed unusual unto thee on that day -
Yea, 38 years ago it had happened in thy teenage,
Thou had lost the colour of life in thee,
I stopped thee while I had been on my routine morning stroll,
Thou held my hands with thy fingers stained with blood,
Thou uttered: "15 minutes to 6 on that morning my old tree withered."
Thou had no relationships to share thy woes,
Alone Thou wert seen shouting and screaming on thy way sans right direction.
What would be thy future, for thy motherly bird had breathed last?
It was on 11th September 38 years ago!
A flash of nostalgic elegy 'cross my mind struck.