to the falling Leaves of Indiranagar...

Lingering with the freshness when the 
Air was cool and crisp, I strode.
One fine Evening on 12th Main, by the 100ft road. 
Between the woods laden with golden
Orange and silver leaves,  peeped the sun ray. 
As I sauntered feeling the wind, passing by 
Mansions, Crossword and Coffee Day. 
A gust of wind blew, tearing a leaf from the tree.
It rolled, danced and perched on my head
careless and free. I cherished the
Lonely lean leaf on my lanky hand. 
I Kissed it and brushed it
and caressed it, with my bearded cheek.
High on the bough where other leaves cling, 
Tweaked with envy with a desire to fling.
just like that  lonely lean leaves in my lanky hand.
With a desire to get touched and caressed and
Lay with piece on the coal tarred indiranagar land. 


I kept strolling as I heared the rumbling sound
of leaves that fluttered craving to comedown. 
There were thousand and millions of them 
craving to be touched, craving to be cherished 
and let it self-fall but I am limited, I
 Couldn’t catch them all.
I wandered on the road, where other dead leaves 
Lay. Oblivious it sailed with a desire
 to be touched  and caressed but got crumpled 
at feet, by the people who strolled by the
Indiranagar street. And as I walk by the road 
that wind and bend, past the bakery where 
It lead to bus stand. I pondered if I were a leaf 
and fall, would someone hold me or let me fall?