The lives of leaves
the petels of sunbeans
the dirt on sleeves
The white becomes yellow
everything is dull and so silent.
The Dull summers are giving
some weird life full of agony
and pain.
The mirage could be easily seen
on the charcoals of this road.
Everything is seen with
error of humanity
The error in humanity
and the error of being a human.
The Dull Summers
with the pale in hail
the fragrance of soil
The birds have reduced
making chirps
Everyone is tending to go dizzy
except this sun and this sandeep.
The Dull Summers
making everything virtual.
It seems somebody is standing under the tree
somebody is screaming someone’s name.
Whiskies are changed into beers.
Whispering is changing into screams
in this dull summers.
The Renaissance 