Parchment memories\\

Looking at those amber trees

I sense the fragrance of a past

forgotten parchment memory.

Its aroma drools me over

and entagles me about my being

and I'm bamboozled with this thought

whether it's hugging me or strangling me.

I feel loved but I couldn't feel unseized.

Am I free or am I not?

Is it love or is it not?

The dead petals lie on my ground,

unsalted and deserted

And I feel like crying to leave them a loner

for years of my dusty past

when they needed me to...

Oh! Have I realised it now?

What would they need me for?

"May be to caress them and kiss them

Like how the humans do

To the graves of dead."

Said the branches shading me.

In this garden of amber

where I smell lilies and lavenders

and roses and sunflowers

and sense the shadow of outgrown banyan

and eat from its harboured luxury,

feeling like Alice in wonderland

I keep wondering,

Am I free or am I not?

Is it love or is it not?

"What else do I need to satisfy you with?

You are loved when you are favoured,

You are loved when you regret

For the wrongs of your past,

You are loved when you feel like home

around me".

Said the branches shading me.

If only I didn't make them

my parchment memories,

I wouldn't have questioned

Your love over my guilt swollen worth.

If only I decided to let it sleep

On its natural matress

than my deserted island

I wouldn't have asked

'Is it love or is it not? '

But today

I feel guilt free because

I have mourned my heart

for my dead petals and I will lay

them beneath on the matress of its fate;

One day again when the the bronze of the soil whistles about its fertility

I would know they are happy,

The petals are happy and so am I.