The tree standing tall
near the river bed,
but never ever got a drop
the yellow never turned red.
The wait was eternal
longer than life itself;
there came thousand springs
but soul couldn’t reveal the self.
The leaves were buried
the twigs swept away:
grayed leaves dying underneath
and the river slid silently away.
near the river bed,
but never ever got a drop
the yellow never turned red.
The wait was eternal
longer than life itself;
there came thousand springs
but soul couldn’t reveal the self.
The leaves were buried
the twigs swept away:
grayed leaves dying underneath
and the river slid silently away.
© Amritbir Kaur