A Seed was Born
In the Damp Pit of Sand.
It Grew Up in the Pink
In the Lush Green Land.
The Zephyr of the South
And the Words of the Mouth,
All Praised the One
What Once was a Seed,
For All he Became,
For All he Did.

Times Went By
And Green turned Brown,
The Next One was Set
To Take Over the Crown.
Zephyrs would Miss the Seed,
And So will the Gales.
For All those are Left are
The Seed’s Gorgeous Trails.

Photo Credit: robert_c


  1. When i first saw the picture on my reader notification i didn’t got what lay inside it..but as i read the poem …it made sense…trail or essence of people or things left behind..even they move out of our life 🙂 🙂 i loved the way you carried the layered emotions 🙂

  2. Lend me your pen and your thoughts for a day……You are so gifted….thanks to the genes in your system perhaps….The browned, frail tree is leaving behind a beautiful green sapling -an adorable one, a gifted one . How proud must the mighty tree be today!

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