POETRY
The Wrinkles Of Time
On The Soul Of An Old Tree
The wrinkles of time caressing my skin, ever-increasing,
going deeper, into the bark, into my soul,
oh all these years of immobility, generations flying by me,
fellow friends ravaged to the ground, old companions,
but here I stand, with creases, here I stand,
with the dried-up drops of tear amalgamated around me, my eyes,
the burden of the leafy branches, the burden of the ever-increasing chaos, around me, increasing, getting so much heavier,
as the days progress, as my age increases,
it all gets a tad bit difficult now,
so I close my eyes, and meditate on yesteryear moments,
that make me smile amidst difficulty,
amidst all the sadness permeating around me.
Let only love remain, let only greenery blossom,
let only the song of that unknown bird caress my ears,
let the boisterous winds flirt through my branches,
let the sunrays and moonlight play peekaboo through the leaves,
let only the silence of the night lull me to sleep.
Hey fellow stranger, passerby, can you see my grief-stricken face, my eyes, my mouth, would you care to listen to the plethora of stories my hundred-year-old brain has amassed?
would you share yours too, I’ll definitely lend an ear.
Somsubhra Banerjee, 2023
