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| Baijnath Gupta |
The Spectral Hosts
The party season is over
And the leaves, like guests, have bidden farewell
To the trees hosting them.
Their palate being satiated,
Their dance to the cadence of Zephyr
being over,
Lost still in the verdurous dreams,
They plodded their purple way
Back home.
The vacant verdant hall
And a drab yellow bulb
Hanging from a grey wall
Ask the spectral hosts,
"Where are your green guests now?"
The pallid lips of the hosts move
And seem to say,
"The guests go to where a generous buffet is arranged for them
By the nouveau hosts."
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