The gulmohur tree was cut time & again
but finally climbed its way to my window
the sweet dollops of its orange flowers
stating they belong there.
Even the local crow perching on its branches
gave to the blow of wind.
But no, not this tree. Instead it wilted
brushing against my window in its calling
showering flowers inside.
So will I, climbing to the window of your heart
bloom and wilt till I belong.
Nishant Tayde lives in Thane. When not working, they spend their time reading, writing & musicking. As a reader and writer, they are most interested in the music of words.