In a vast stretch of resonating green,
Every root tickled into fits of laughter
And tips swayed in perpetual cadency.
A little too passion a little too heat
Of the two, one swept off its feet
Like a rock crumbling into sand.
The heart charmed by munificence
Begged and yet bereft of repletion,
That every crumb yearned.
The incessant craving, relentlessly spurned.
A mediocre zephyr churns a part
At times, a hasty gust carries it away
Still more is bred in what’s left.
In the vast stretch of green
Now lies a patch of orange grass
In a fear of extermination
Harboring a flickering hope
And waiting for the green,
To someday, turn akin.