WOODEN VALLEY OF MY PAST

 sometimes,

while treading my dynamic present,

whenever i cross the wooden valley of my past,

where, tyrant autumn is a sad irony of today.

i see no one, but the bereaved footprints of my own.

so pristine and  so lively, still today.

sometimes,

when i become infidel and bluff my present,

i venture out into my past 

and drench myself into the rain of yesterday

and solace myself  in those non - existing moments

and says-

" if you were  my ever existing today and morrow".

sometimes,

whenever i cross the wooden valley of my past.......