The young lad who worked in the tea-stall had been missing. He was well-known for his warm-hearted smile, good humor. Somebody hinted, he might have eloped with April’s daughter. Some said, their affair had been going on for months. Routine searches revealed one hidden notebook full of scribbles. On the last page was written: Why do poems always leave me behind?
One mid-May morning we found his cold rigid body, under the shade of a copper pod tree. Yellow petals covered his face. I noticed blood-marks on the boughs of one bastard teak. It rained heavily that evening, washing away the red stains. Juvenile verses were drifted by drain water. A stubborn sparrow kept tweeting: sunny dreams, sunny poet, rainy day, rainy poems… sunny dreams, sunny poet, rainy day, rainy poems…
Missing
Thanks Anniecat for being here.
Well Arun, I never thought of teak as being a bit of a bastard. Now knotty pine maybe, lol.
I actually like the way you have used that word to describe the inferior species of tree.
Juvenile verses, also has a nice sound.
I enjoyed this sad tale Arun.
I actually like the way you have used that word to describe the inferior species of tree.
Juvenile verses, also has a nice sound.
I enjoyed this sad tale Arun.
Pauline, ' bastard teak' is a kind of tree. Lol. Also called 'parrot tree'. Thanks for the feedback. 
Thanks Dave. Thanks for being here and replying. Smiles.