Friday, April 29, 2011


Earlier the evening cool breeze used to bring
The sweet fragrance of many flowers
From the faraway Garden.
The heady cocktail of scents was a heaven-sent.
These days I may stand here for eternity
The empty winds blow as serene as ever
But reveal nothing.

I wonder what happened to the garden and the blossoms.
Has some fair maiden plucked them all?
Have the fresh blooms become an offering to God?
May be the season of blooming has come to an end.
May be the plants have wilted and withered.
Or perhaps, I wonder,
The Gardener has died.

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