The Garden of life 

By  Swati Goswami

Childhood.

This garden is so bright and sunlit

Each flower seems to blossom completely

Exuding generous fragrances and hues.

With shy buds clinging in anticipation.


This garden is so cool and shady

With patches of sunshine on the ground

The trees whisper furtively to each other

Sharing incidents from eras gone by.


Bare feet dodge the lady birds

And skip over the ant hills.

They find easy knobs on the tree trunks

To help them climb nearer to the outgrowth.


The moist morning grass cools the heels

And sends fresh ideas to nomadic minds.

Carefree unbashful laughter rings around

As ruffled uncombed heads fall back in mirth.


Unattended scraped knees brave the races

While mellow voices confuse the Koyal

The soft breeze builds fruity appetites

and lets discolored hands feed the hungry mouths.

Aduthood

As the sun sets

The air becomes staler and fragrances fade

The laughter gets controlled and conscious, 

the shadows grow longer than the trees

Leaving less space to run around freely.


I should come back again in the morning

To feel the moist breeze against my face

And to aimlessly argue with the Koyal

From atop the old mangrove.


Maybe in the morning my feet

Will not tread on the struggling lady bird and

I will see the shy buds stretching out their arms

Filled with fragrant promises for me.

Evenings are dull and dreary in this garden

I should certainly come again in the morning.