...it was my own....

The strong wind hit the ashes;
In a clay pot on the side -
By a photograph with garlands n flowers,
As I could see from the tower
Of the guava tree by the orange one,
A ceremony organized in my home;
How dare am I really unknown !
I saw my teachers and many noble persons
Were talking to my parents !
I tried to hear them but failed,
At the moment I fell down from the tree,
Amazing ! I was flying on the air,
I wanted let my parents know,
My voice lost within or they didn't care
Though my sight was good -
Still I couldn't hear,
Was like a soundless movie,
I reached the photograph;
Oh my God ! it was my own....
That's why all were in great mourn,
I, being within but beyond !
Waiting for bright light,
My eyes blossomed yellowish flowers;
The Sun peeped in from the window
Trying to dry the morning dew;
I was in tears -
When I woke up.

sammukh gpl