The Old Lady
A
Anil Kumar Panda
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And I see her plucking flowers
When I open the windows in the
Morn to let the fresh air in
To my rooms where early birds
Have entered to twit their songs
As the new day does begin
And I see her making garlands
Sitting under a tree humming a
Song of love till the sultry noon
When the sun stays at the middle
Of the sky and in the soft breeze
Trees start to bend and swoon
And I see her sitting under the
Stars and watching the moon
Remembering her old days
Of young love and how she lost
The lover in a war when sun was
Shedding its crimson haze
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