• neelamdadhwal 41w

    The pleasure of overgrown trees
    were they exactly like
    I thought when small
    years grew and
    the shade too.

    Trails are crafted
    the bougainvillea turned into
    climber of some sort
    over fences no longer there.

    Benches are laid
    sweet scent of earth now flows
    in song of koel or bulbul
    enchanted garden seems alive.

    I too try to concoct a life's fancy
    becoming a poet.