Knocked down by a reverie...

'Was that tree earlier there?
Standing stretched out with branches bare?'
He thought
Pressing his knuckles soft...
Going into a strange reverie
Afternoon dropped so many queries...

He knocked on the wooden door
Placing his ears tried to hear jingles on the floor...
Of silver anklet's charming bells...
He thought the past would him tell
Stories so many varied and young...
Stories woven in afternoon songs...

He knocked on the door twice...
Standing like an occasion bright...
As if he had come to renew old ties...
He just stood there betwixt truth and lies...
Every moment passed sepulchral
Throbbing like veins with premonitions dull
Asked him not to wait...
Asked him to ride back straight...
To his native place...
To where the afternoon would've changed her dress-
Into something purple huge...
But he ignored all expecting a deluge...

Finally the door got opened...
She stood there...swollen eyed...woken...
Perhaps from a deep sleep
Ten years...was a long gap to keep
All things tidied up...
But her face got surely lit up...
Her face got surely lit up...

Then he thought everything remained...
Just the original...just the same...
Then he felt in his nose
That smell of blossoming gulmohor...
Spreading out wide and far
Prodding him not to mar
His reverie shaping up
In her eyes just lit up...

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