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I marvel, and not
I marvel at the beauty of kindness,
Of charm born of a smile
On face. Ah, what pleasure it is to see
Its imprint for a mile.
I too marvel at goodness of a soul
That outlives mortal flesh,
A mere witness that still does everything
Till flesh turns into ash.
I marvel more the fallen autumn leave
That leaves without regret
On its grey face and that of mother tree
That hath grown, isn’t it great!
And no less marvel at little cuckoo
That waits for views nor clues,
Sings, if or not someone appreciates,
Who’s no use for excuse.
They only can a ship in silence launch
Undeterred by a storm,
Not those that love to hide behind loin haunch,
Nor wait for weather warm.
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Musings |17.04.2024| smile, soul
Copyright ©
Aniruddha Pathak
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