You would not remember,
When we were perched upon the eagle's eyes,
And through the narrow confines and intricacies
Of the grill, when we looked on at the cherry trees.

I remember scouting the blossoms,
Spreading their pink canopy like messengers of love.
But that year, it did not bloom,
Strong gusts of wind ravaged within.

Ever since, the windows of the balcony
Have been blindfolded with thick sheets.
The blind would cast a half baked smile,
At the sensible's seclusion from light of life.

And our chairs remain still,
Their rotting skeletons facing the window.
Purposeless, they muse on into the silence,
To hear the begging leaves sing their winter song.

And long still after you are gone,
The dusty sheets remain on.
All life has halted beyond its wall,
But the cherry resumes to bloom.
-Divyosmi Goswami