The doors of the time machine swing open
On rust hinges; I hop in, it waddles duck –like
Picking up speed, bumping and bouncing
Over patches of turbulence.
Stop, stop! I scream, no it’s not a dream.
I jump out of the time machine
Once again, a mercurial teen; Time squints.
Languorous moments rub sleep kinks from eyes.
Heads peep, pheran clad, tousle-haired,
Whacky grins burst forth, teeth bared
Staccato bursts of mirth
On a still untraumatized earth.
Bleary eyed, I see myself scooping the sunrays
In my hands, and hurling them back in the sky.
Ah, look, look, they come back as golden rain
Cascading down from the azure skies
To drench the Chinar tree of yore.
That sun- drenched chinar is now rooted in the heart.
A luminescent relic, unbowed, swaying, sloughing, rustling,
Uncowering; showering hues of amber, mauve, yellow, and red
Curled and twisted by the shenanigans of summer
Now its fire still burns, undying, in its autumnal hues
Pouring forth a verse, in happy harmony with the universe.
SEPT/OCT 2017 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
An academician, essayist-novelist -poet, I have an insane passion to write about everything under the sun or the moon! Some of my books like Ballad of Bapu: [a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi] and Where are the lilacs? [a collection of 111 peace poems] have been internationally acclaimed. Flights from my terrace is my ebook of 58 essays on Smashwords .