A Beautiful Morning
During these mornings
I missed that smell
That used to tranquillize
My worries, that morning frost,
On which people walked over and created Crunchy sounds, with their
Combination of plastic and
Leather shoes.
On the pillow, I used to lay low
And listen to all these
Voices with stillness,
I took my hands out
From the quilt but was forced to
Kept them inside, with no electricity
I failed to turn on the lamp,
I guess it had snowed
In heaps and
All-electric wires were creating
Multicoloured designs
On the white background,
Suddenly I woke up and got out
And found, myself Leaning
Against the window,
My hot vapours were striking
Against the glass and
While looking outside,
The white flakes appeared falling
Drowsily from the crimson sky,
Tufts of smoke piercing through
The soft and silky flakes,
Forcing them to retreat,
The ground appeared more like
An invisible hand catching
Every flake without a miss,
The smell of fresh and
Cold air filling a sense
Of something that
I had lost and now found,
This waxing and waning
Created an imbalance
In my thoughts,
I feel my toes are falling numb,
And with every flake
Dancing in the air
Wiggling and wobbling avoided
Getting caught but eventually
Grabbed,
The smell of fresh snow
Arousing a child inside,
Within no time
Found myself taking
Chunks of white,
Crispy foam from the windowsill,
Turned them into meatballs,
On looking towards the sky
It appeared like all
Kinds of insects are falling
To the ground,
And sometimes
As it felt like I’m going
Up in the sky.
With all these trucks and
Jeeps making their way into
The garrison leaving
A criss-cross marks
On the fresh snow
Behind, with children
Coming out to play
In the snow,
Throwing each other these
Meats balls and sliding
On the tyre marks
Created on the soft
And thawing snow.
From every household
In the neighbourhood,
One can see the steams
Emerging from their
Windows carrying the exotic
Smell of turnip and red beans!
