No water, no moss left except some
patchy cracks of mud here and there.
The heavy rain surged into her pool,
came too late but made her cool.
Alas! They were wittingly dwindled
and some sailed through the air
in invisible vapors in joyous choir!
She’s lamenting for she will miss
the footfalls of thousand known feet
of women, men and school children
to dive into the pool semi-necked,
to explore refreshed vigor in them
in unique pleasure, undefined ecstasy
she will no more be revived for farmers
to drain water to their emerald fields!
Lotus will no more bloom forever
by the crystal surface of her water
In deep pain, her tearful eyes peep
The huge loads of sands in some trucks
The upbeat contractor is cheering labors
To end the task to fill it up by the dusk
Ah, none left to see her spirit cry in air
No one bothers to listen to her and share!
Government contractor on high back chair
growing fatter through a dazzling tower
on the shrine of committal as her tomb.
Her spirit is sweeping her blooded tears
and cajoling her to stop lamenting there.
The seeds of her tears will now bloom
seasonal flowers of varied colors
as offering to commercial quarters!
Copyright@ Poet,4 February,2019