April 27, 2019

Home

Nostalgia?
A landscape of memories 
sweet and sour.
So close to heart 
and yet so far

Many a hot summers
Of sheer joy and fun
The pitter patter of 
Tiny wet feet tiptoeing
on a burning hot patio
Rushing into blue waters
with squeals of laughter
Fighting for floats n noodles,
avoiding the pine needles.
Dreading that first raindrop
That'd bring all play to a stop
Amid moans and the pleas
That no adult would appease

There was so much to do in those fests of fun
Endless servings of watermelon
Drinking lemonade by the gallon
Diving for coins that someone would drop
Quietly effacing post painful belly flops
Feigned nonchalance when trunks got undone
And friends laughed and grinned all while you squirmed

Happy times with old and young
Oh those were such days of fun
Those carefree summers
when all was green.
Peace and freedom abounded
'Twas a place to dream

It’s all so different now
With distances and pretences.
My sea of blue is no more
Nor the joyous pink azalea bush
All there is is the staggering fence
What did it guard now I wonder?
It is as if a painted canvas broke
Under that mighty oak
It's now but an orphaned space
that was once a bustling home



Sent from my iPhone

February 02, 2019

Untitled

It is the end of the road.
Now paved and tarred.
Yet, once it was not.
Was but a precious clearing
In the clutter of life
when strangers met
and walked untrodden grounds
not once, not twice, but several times,
and a path was born
random and untold.
Would it live?
Youth fell prey and couldn't resist 
the romance of the forbidden.
The path seemed a gateway
to promised pleasures
of a fairytale future;
so it got paved!
Packed with hopes
and dreams, bearing 
promises of trust
to a fairytale future!
But oh, it didn't stop there.
The paved path had to be preserved
in posterity forever.
A blacktop coating perhaps.
So it happened.
A tarred road  it was,
and now 
it is the end of the road.