Promise Of Renewal
M Mamta Agarwal
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As I walked in the woods
Feeling sad and subdued,
I stepped on dry dead leaves
And realised autumn had set in.
A sharp gust of wind
Made me unsteady on my feet
I instinctively reached out,
To avoid a fall, for support.
As my hands rested on the trunk
Of the nearby tree, I was struck
That it kind of looked shrivelled and dead
I just rested my weary head
Against it, and thought it would soon
Be cut and pruned
To bear signs of new life by spring
Will my heart ever again soar and sing?
How could nature have forgotten to keep
Its promise of renewal to me?
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