Thursday, November 27, 2014

Puerility

Once upon a time,
We used to talk in jumbles,
And stumble on our tiny little feet,
Listen with rapt attention,
The unbelievable tales
Of fairies and ghosts,
Imagine, believe and dream.
And then we grew up.
And the summer of childhood
Became a misty haze,
Blanketed by
Worries of earning and eating.
The dreams turned to dust.
Feet found their place.
Slowly the labyrinth of life
Consumed us,
And devoid of our spirit,
We march towards oblivion.
The undammed rivers,
Controlled and constricted.
Bare feet hop-skipping,
Consume me.
As do the
Christmas expectations
In hushed whispers,
And interspersed giggles.


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Since every thought is a seed, I am looking forward to a delicious harvest.