On this lazy Sunday
while the rest of the pack are
Nursing sore eyes,
here I am on the winding lanes
where memories lay, like
strewn flowers, and some still
bloom on those hedgerows
behind which a shining face, often
waited with some gooseberries and
salt laced mangoes and some flowers even.
the green ribboned plaits, always
with one brought over to fore and
few buds of jasmine , ” oh, mother
always clips in to keep them lice free”.
Another frame, now zooms forward
at the steps going down the pond
where a boy of ten sits one step lower
squinting at her when lights lent
an ambient aura while she was
singing a just learned hymn
which I still hum over a peg or two..