When The Door Opens .

A muddy trail leading  to somewhere ,

A bird crooning the glory of the morning.

Lonely cricket practising to woo his lady love;

And a body lying still , oh yeah it’s me.

It’s me out there , I can now be sure ,

Still like a rock that has seen the sea of time .

Hairs seems wet , no I don’t oil them any more ;

Have they gone grey , or that’s the play of light .

I must be here for more than a day .

As some of the natures children are playing around on me ;

Crawling over my long face , is a little beetle;

Happy he seems to explore , the things  he never saw.

Muddy ,dirty hands have settled across each other;

While legs a feet apart and feet’s looking away.

A little white feather is sleeping on my chest;

Is he a little  tired or is it a warm embrace.

Soon it will be raining , tells the clouds above;

Naughty drops have already escaped the parents’ home.

Will they wake me up from this untimely sleep;

Or they will let me drown in this infinite peace.