Green blossoms paling in the blaze.
Does the pitiless sun drain them
of all hope with its scorching rays?
They droop in repressed agony.
The aroma of asphalt slowly moving
in to suck the sap;
Trees, stately and daring the skies
bear an uncanny fear in their hearts;
Even their shadows appear mortal!
They harbour an unexpressed message -
manifold flora has lost its scent;
The brook gurgles quietly below.
The ambience of silence, a roaring
curse on the day when
it will be a static sewage.
