The Gul mohar that Cried..

'Twas on that fateful summer night-
That the gul mohar tree cried.

I remember-

The evening sky touched her-
Gentle a touch,
Sensuous.'

I nibbled my pen,
Into a stump-
Rummaging for words,
That strain inside-
For release.

The words dangled in front of my eyes.
Yet, incoherent, the spaces-
Strings of alphabets,
Random.

My eyes closed, as I fell back,
Into a reverie-
A frown forming along my brow,
Beads of sweat breaking.

Plop!

A blotch on my paper sheet,
I find the ink trace a dream-
A mirage,
The letters heeling a dance,
Teasing,
And taunting-
A lovely love,
Endearing.

'The leaves jiggled,
Adorning the crimson hue,
Of dusk.

The breeze rumbled a new melody,
As the rustles grew smooth-
And finally,
Died down-
As night embraced her,
Making love.'

The blotch dried up,
Yet, it left a mark-
The faded grey of night.

My eyes screened through the words
The critical mind, that love the errs,
And questions the flow.
Across ages, its been the same;
The eagle's eye-
Mine.

'The silence felt ever so eerie,
As life slipped into slumber,
To be awaken
By that cry-

And as I heard it loud,
I knew-

The gul mohar had finally cried out.

Bliss!'

Plop!

A new blotch-
A droplet, that poured out of me-

For the gul mohar that cried bliss,
The crimson sky that effused love,
And the night halo that embraced life.

And, I cried-
For the live words,
Borne from my soul, once again.