By Himanshu Dhingra
the road, the wind, the tree flows
but the attention forgets to move
and just stops
my eyes are holding on to a tree
they do not want, to let go of it
i feel the tree belongs to
the garden of my eyes
so, what’s the deal
if i am counting
the number of leaves on the tree
and forgetting my own sighs
that green leaf which fell from the tree wants my irises to look at it
as i look, the movement of the leaf wants my tears to accompany it
the wind doesn’t want the leaf to settle
my heart feels the same as i feel i am somewhere in the middle
By Himanshu Dhingra
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