Stories and tales*

Thinking of You,
Is like going
Back to stories
And tales, which
You oft did tell
To me,
At those lazy wintry noons,
When the locality
Would appear most noiseless,
When your all works
Of the house were wrapped,

You would call me
To sit on your lap,
And tell me,
Of Prince and princess,
How once a princess bought home
A bird and tried to teach her words,
And how that bird, being a lover of liberty,
Always wanted to fly away,

Then one day,
You told me the tale
Of how that Piper of a town
Simply by his flute
Made a town , happy,
Except the king,

Another day,
That tale of the man with
Hunch at the back,
How he thought to make fool
Of all,
That day, i , probably,
First heard a name of a town,
You would spell it for me,

How, all memories of you
Keep coming back, mother,
As i see, stories so similar wrought
In books, paints and colored drops.

(*Note : the painting attached herewith is Taken by me for the sake of heightening and decorating the poem/scribbling.
Courtesy: Gregory, "Turn back to God" series, )


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