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In the eerie hours half asleep
I heard my name in a soft voice.

It was a wake up call I couldn't resist
The jungle was in dark mist
The night ending but morning was still frail
The call was to tread on the fallen leaves trail.

The trees were shaded dark the sky was pale
Every bush was where the shadows fell
Quiet was the air our heart tautly tense
We tiptoed our best, and it made sense.

Tweet of early birds didn't sound sweet
Danger awaited at all sides to meet
We strained ears for the slightest sound
The jungle a romance on a perilous ground.

On the dry boulded river shapes were deep
Moving in a herd crawling to the steep
We stood frozen on this other side
To let the distance between grow wide.

Years have flown and whenever in the woods
I see my father's figure in jungle brood
He wakes me up and stretches his hand
We fly through the bushes in jungle land.
Humbly dedicated to my father who was an avid walker in the forest in the wee hours of the morning. It was on such a trip he met with an accident and died.
  Jun 2024 Sarita Aditya Verma
Traveler
Their eyes
Will always
Look down
On you
Their hearts
Will never
Change

So warm
Your heart
In solitude
A hearth
Of poetic  
Flames...
Traveler Tim
30 Syllables

Hang in there!
Flaunt your joy
Dig your sorrow
You have only today
Who knows 'bout morrow!
How good is the thought
If it doesn’t set you free
The freedom you seek within

How blind can you be
When you already can see
The true side of it

How good is the thought
If it doesn’t set you free
From miseries

When you don’t trust
Your own heart
How will you believe
That you can

There is freedom
In believing yourself
There is freedom
In believing, that thought
That you can believe
In yourself
That inner strength
Assertively
And that freedom sought
Is freedom received
Two birds on the line
Fight for a fruit, the cat waits
Two friends realise
The places I’ve visited and then left
Only to revisit to know more
The experience of the untouched untapped resource

For some it comes easy
Some struggle the ****
Pushing and pulling, the invisible doors

Then on a rainy day
Wait for the clouds while they pour
Filled with dreams of paddy fields
An experience of abundance
And some more
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