From the editor’s desk

Journey

It is Autumn time of the year, Which is pain for my dear, Life of a leaf decline, Each fall after the other in a line. The drooping branches rust, And fall on the crust, With it, it takes away the nest, Sayonara, it was just a guest, It bumps and its life succumbs. Besides, the tree decides, And adapts to its tough life, It gradually breathes in and in, Not affected even by the slightest pin.

The sky roared, And it poured, The testing chemical, In the tree’s core, The tree stood by, And welcomed the sky, To rain at its high, The sky rained at its peak, But the dedicated tree, Did not leak, A single drop of cry, From its convincing eye. All is settled, It seems like the tree has battled, All the liquid soldiers, With arms now lying in the armoury, Of hope, dedication and a smile. Each defeated drop, Slides from the tree’s prop, Looking like apologising, To the forgiving crop. The sky clears, The sun appears, It strikes the same tree near, What am I guessing, The tough tree takes it as a blessing.

Few leaves appear,