Miss those
Crazy hazy lazy days of summer,
And that neighbourhood-
A bicycle tied to a tree,
A vast green field,
Goal posts two at two ends
Like two guards,
That pond where anglers
Spent their summers
Looking at the still greenish water
For slightest movement of their strings,
The shaded slope of the river bank
Muddy soft and that wooden plank
Wide just enough for us to sit
And ruminate over the birds and the bees,
Queen of heart placed on grass
Little triumphs in a game of cards,
Floating leaves, whispering breeze,
Smell of green mangoes in the air, just a tease,
Wild violet flowers fresh and sun kissed,
Cotton seeds sent to the clouds by a whiff with a wish,
Rows of eucalyptus like standing saints,
a sleeping goatman by the barbed fence,
A sprinkler and a water jet,
A seesaw, a swing, and a garden gate.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Missing a kind of a summer
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