1 min read

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.

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