A Stroll In Spring Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

The leaves are there on the road
Enclosing petals in their folds -old and new
Fresh wounds spilling blood of treachery
Old wound running down in thin lines as
If lines on palms- reading the brutality.
Dry leaves have veins like lines on furrows
Of forehead- shrunk as if in deep depression.
Fresh ones have much youth running in veins.
Still adamant not to be blown away from
The smell of tar and sand. It is spring time.
Road is painted with color of fresh palash.