By Rahul Sivarajan
I want to go on an endless walkwith the steady thoughts
of the longloop game
need to straighten'em out
and lay it out till lands end
and walk on till there is
no land no wind no strings
for the kites to cut the other
.
At that crossroad tree yard
crimson by the sun and
prison to existence blurred
of all the leaves which fell
this autumn, had none
from the old brown branch
of your genesis stories
.
When the winds swept west
them lucky lighter ones away
the gardener's rake found you
ripe to impale and cast away
.
Then when the pile heaped
you met Rosie the maple
ol' heartthrob of childhood staple
but the pyre was lit, past reaped
and all those birds in prayer, too late
.
The winds took your ashes
fireplaces crackled your soul
pipes smoked your lives
and we stole your shade
@Ravi and @Gina, thank you!
Keep It Up Homie.
Very well written poem :)