Baby. by Sayani Mukhergee

I have lost my tulip tree

Buried and briefed under a tilted stage

A banyan tree under my eunoia days

The neem tree is green today

The bird is flowed from the sky

Silked and tattered in the orange sky high

A new rust orange peeling off

The memories of lost napkin

A blue coat of overcoat promised land

The fairies come alive in the penknife pen

Still I hold my babies true.