To the hilltop <br /> <br />led by the sound of sunlight drawing pictures <br />urged by time <br />erasing and re-shaping again and again <br /> <br />at every curve <br />old things emerge and re-emerge <br />perhaps, like the hatred <br />which I left some time back <br /> <br />nature brimming with a furtive smile <br />and <br />winking with singing colors <br /> <br />Me, an intruder <br />inhaling wrinkled happiness <br /> <br />the hills and valleys seek <br />the harmony of mist <br />to hide solidified sobs and sighs <br />the topless trees telling stories to the rain <br />of moments of seduction and gloom present <br />the darkened pond escapes to the corner <br />heavy with a destitute’s biography <br />veiled sorrow stumbling on <br />the remnants of concocted complexities <br />babbling brooks trying to evade <br />shamelessly woven dreams of the meadows <br />the cascade rhyming love-laden hours <br />with glory, grandeur and grace <br /> <br />I stand here, naked <br />with a haunting melody inside….<br /><br />prasanna kumari<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-in-the-woods-3/
