The scent of that evening emotion,
as it loiters in the portico.
Talking with that ray of the evening sun,
freely bursting in through the cloud
The sadness of a grass stuck in the man’s shoe,
as he came running up the stairs,
only to be stopped at the door shut close
on his face.
The pain in that single petal left on the flower,
as the wind mercilessly moved out All its
siblings unwilling to hold on together
and be safe.
All these matter, even though we do not notice,
May be you don’t have the time,
but you have to agree,
all these happen around you
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