Our Dying Maze

Deep in the bushes

Myriads of water rushes

Sweet to the tongue

Soaked up in the rough sponge

Vivid green colours bursting

Sweet minuscule birds conversing

On the extended palms

Of the forest arms

Aqua vigorously swimming

As it goes slowly thinning

Parting its ways

To go and explore the maze

Starting back to where we came

Cherishing our aim

Looking around, observing

All the leafy curving

What we cherish in our hands

It all gets shaved with our commands