The trembling old man,
Spirit waning with time,
Everyday I see him
Head down with thoughts,
Walking slowly by.
But today was he smiling
And was gathering quite a pace,
Out of curiosity,
I could not help but follow his steps.
Into the woods he went
And so did I.
From behind a tree
I spotted the old man at a distance,
Lying naked on the moist green grass,
Uttering something I could not hear.
A light drizzle then ensued
And I saw him turning green!
His flesh was slowly mingling with the grass,
His skin morphing into its blades,
And in a minute he vanished!
I stood there,
Staring at his scattered clothes
For a long time in disbelief,
And then walked out slowly.
But by then the sun came out,
And it shone as bright as it shines after rain.
Pragjyotish Bhuyan Gogoi writes poetry in English and Assamese. He hails from Assam, India, and currently lives in New Delhi, pursuing his PhD in Physics from University of Delhi.