The Seventh Stone

Passed them over singing every dawn
As they watched her year after year
Mynahs untroubled as she came near
Perched on her favorite seventh stone


Brought them daily spring on her way
Spreading colors and their fumes
Every leaf knew the songs and tunes
And every pebble had seen her gray

First they saw her with her mother
Carrying the flowers in smaller a basket
With peeking over her shoulder a puppet
Losing the mother she saw them bother


She always caught around one farmer’s cart
On the wooden bridge mostly while passing
Once stood robust with the seventh facing
And saw through the son playing his part


The raining morning of the night she died
The broken bridge denied the cart to cross
What gift of monotony in the colors of moss!
Smiled the milestone as everyone cried.