Uprooted grass
A few hours ago the cute grass bunch
Silently weeps for the loss,
Loss of its innocence,
A butterfly has its moorings on it,
its freshness, its dew glanced,
Innocent looks upfront,
I mercilessly trampled upon it
during my inadvertent walk :
after all the grass with its
ancestral lineage, its peerless smell,
sooner, nods elegantly around the soil,
It does not have a mouth to cry, for
no hurt or crushed pain emitting thereon,
no rocky stones, no tornado
could whiz past the earthy queen,
on my return from gravel path,
a gardener’s sickle swaps,
crude ‘ unkindest cut’, grass
Looks as if flamboyantly
Relieved from the mud cuddled posture.
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