The trees of old

By Keyur Patil

As I tread the everyday's path I remember the trees of old.

Where once we used to seek shelter When the sun scorched our scars.

It's all a tad bit grey now

Though it should be green.

What of the seed we had sown; I sigh What of the trees of old; I cry.

And as the world moves on

far and away.

I stand gazing at architectures That have now replaced the trees of old.

By Keyur Patil