The Breeze

By Jagadeepa Das

Outside my open window I see,
A breeze fluttering the lush leaves of a big tree.
The breeze swaying my curtains of satin and lace ,
Brushing softly like a whisper against my face .
The same soft breeze I see, travelling north ,
Maybe touching the soft green grass or moving forth ,
Floating over the meadows of a distant place ,
Perhaps watching the busy life of people , moving in hurry and haste .
“ why not be calm and slow like me ? “ asked the breeze,
“Moving as slowly and calmly as I please”
Whispering soft, sweet words like the fellow breeze ,
Ah ! The breeze, a definition of gentleness and ease !
And the breeze moves on to the lazy countrysides,
Oh! Up and over the mountains and ruffling the tides,
Softly scooping up pebbles and sands,
From the yellow, dry deserted lands .
Whispering softly to the pretty petals of pretty flowers,
And after travelling to hundreds of places for hours and hours,
Look ! There I see the same breeze ,
Come back again at a slower pace ,
Brushing softly like a whisper against my face 




Leave a comment