In the season of the Gulmohars
We went out for a walk
Hand in hand together
in silence, no talk.
It was a pleasant morning
The sun was just a blush
It was a day of leisure
No worry, no rush.
Under a brilliant Gulmohar
There was a little bench
On it we sat together
I, my lovely wench.
She snuggled closer to me
As I whispered her name
And she said “I love You”
My hug uttered the same.
That time has gone by now
Not all the things are same
but, in the season of the Gulmohars
I still whisper her name.
— rawjeev