Thirst Of A Tree Poem by Lokenath Roy

I stood by the rusty railings,
of the huge cranking gate—
my gaze,
fixed on the branches all so brown;
often, bare and naked.
Seldom ornamented of—
a dangling leaf so very dry.

So very resembling of my lips—
A smile wry,
of the corners of my soul so dry.
Thirsty am I? —
stretching my hands;
but your water is of no use;
monsoon is awaited—
a long way off;
for now, hail brings her spines.

I shall stand by the tree,
looking forward—
to the thirst, that burns within
looking forward—
for you to bring me a smile
that smells of spring.