The forest always on the age of teen.
Tall wild walls with bountries that lean.
Thick broad leaves together no too far an inch.
The swirling wind as cool as ice, always gives a pinch.
To the calm green, I turn,
copying each face of jungle I earn.
Nature is truly no copyright,
with laws of trunks at height.
In each breath I keep in touch,
with the sagine beauty inside, so much.
Showers of rain at terms, do arrives.
For the chattering dense, it thrives.
As on the tree house, me taking rest.
Heard the nature's fierce roaring fest.
With kneen eyes I peeped through my window,
only to see a bird with feathers of lindow.
Further, I saw a group of fleeing birds.
Flocking up together, giving an end to my faraway words.
As I rushed down my tree house,
I saw the smoke, which rouse.
The hall of nature, I knew had fell,
with eyerthing enchanted with a spell.
Ran and screamed with horrored eyes,
reflected the dust filled in depised-howling skies.
The flames on the top have corossed the forest.
The foamy moan of the deserted trees was really a sorest.
With a rumbled heart, I saw the collision.
The scene of billowed green is always an envision.
Realising the lives I felt was tender.
And alas! now they are all a very handful of cinder.



© DKHM