All Individuals

It was early morning walk

No one was there to talk

Some of the birds were getting ready

Only cuckoo seemed to be in hurry

 

But what is this sound?

Some of the yellow leaves had fallen on ground

My feet crushed them under with little force

I thought of my old age at once

 

They were not totally crushed under weight

But were turned into light powder

Oh time for too pack up

That is how season gives me hint about

 

It is beautiful gift

When we notice shift

One has to go pack up early or late

The heaven is likely to open gate

 

Spring may wait no more

But spread with whatever good in store

The flowers may open with petals

To make aware all individuals.