The travellers,
who stopped there for sometime,
left their imprints carved on the trees.
A few remained stories.
that neither came true, nor got erased.
.
Trees stood tall, they neither screamed,
nor complained,
Giving what they had, to the travellers.
.
The tattooed bark of the trees,
are the proofs of the era bygone.
Skin deep memories of
the engraved moments,
linger in the air.
-PayalAgarwal
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