When mother root is begun to decay,
that’s warning to swaying brown branches death
under luminous stars in vile world play
with the weeping snow fall of snowy breath.
All they glorify gloating shades with grades
in cooling summer green thick shelter cool
till kissing spring’s hot twilight shady fades,
blessed facts with cursed stages for frozen souls.
See! homeless dwellers toil with jaunty smiles
it’s art of living poverty juncture,
scenes, not seen ‘n buildings of big gates, of miles,
but feel godsend beauty queens of nature.
If felt judges with deep keenly faces
vanishing blessed pride, with jealous bases.
– Sasi Sarma Bollapragada.
