the sight of flowers spread brings an illusory state

The sight of flowers yellow and red
On the scorched summer afternoon street spread
Like loosely sewn carpet soft
Takes me back several years cropped
Of my long strip of memories of summer holidays
My leisurely bicycle rides...my post exam days...
My days of little secrets of savoring mango pickles
All alone at the terrace, so greedy and guilty struck...
My days of playing football, jostling with little buddies covered with slushy muck...
My days of coming sleepy tired home...
With moon all over me like a roundish white drone...
My summer nights under the sky, with blowing breeze
Me bitten red- painfully stung by bees...
My countless waits at the window to see
A girl returning home in white skirt and green tee...
My afternoon sweats falling on papers, plastic and stick of glue
Trying to make a foolish aeroplane that never flew...
My Cliff Richard with boyish charms singing loud
Summer holidays with a blue sky without doubts...
Me accompanying my mother in the evening
To the market with a silent hope of getting
A simple toy with two wheels that could run
Across imaginary streets and under hot bulgy sun...
My father coming home with a book of a superhero
Who could pick up speed of immeasurable dimensions spending time zero...
My days of being seriously inclined
To run a race with friends on the street with trees lined...
My days of falling prey to someone's call
My days turning to nights of being dumped by a lively next door doll...

The sight of flowers spread
Of colors yellow and red
Brings me back to an illusory state
A state of being innocent, naive, and a bit too perfect...






Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Like sleepy , a lullaby...

The warm wintry sun and we