Walking Through The Woods An Evening Poem by Nusrat Perveen

Walking past, I beheard
the zephyr rustling through the woods,
the young teak woods;
studded with pebbles at its feet,
standing aloof whether to mourn or greet.

For, beneath the large glossy leaves
that fatter with the breeze,
hung their withered friends;
once green, full of life,
now xanthic, painted in different shades of brown
preparing to say goodbye.

Even if they leave, the woods will be there,
growing denser every day;
covering the sky above its head,
which is now visible through its sporadic spread.

And it will grow,
along the autumn and spring.
For, it knows,
In this quagmire of mourning and being merry;
resides the life,
which amidst the odds must ferry
and go on in bloom or in withering.

And it will grow, die, mourn and sing
and will keep growing;
along the autumn and spring.