For years I have been walking <br />On the familiar <br />And not-so-familiar <br />Paths of the city. <br /> <br />The hissing of the <br />High-tech automobiles, <br />The rustle of the brisk feet <br />On the cemented pavements, <br />The whispers of walkers and <br />The whistles of the traffic police <br />Independent of the honking of <br />Speeding vehicles pierce my ears <br />And the extra-redness of the gulmohar <br />From the side-walks hits my eyes. <br /> <br />Over the years <br />Perhaps I have not cared <br />To discover you, <br />My pretty grass-flower, <br />I now suddenly behold <br />You, in full-bloom <br />At a season-less time <br />Right at my backyard. <br /> <br />As time changes its shade, <br />Dusty and sweaty days <br />Get fossilized into <br />Unidentified pages of history <br />And starry and lonely nights <br />Evaporate together <br />With the morning dew-drops. <br /> <br />You, my miniature grass-flower <br />Metamorphose yourself before my eyes <br />Into the significant dimension <br />Of Krishna’s cosmic image, <br />Full of ethereal magnificence <br />And earthly fragrance. <br /> <br />You pervade the vastness <br />Of my world, my sky, my dream <br />In a helpless moment.<br /><br />R.K Das<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-grass-flower/
