Fleeting dream

When I was a little boy

I was rather coy
To reveal my inner vision
To worldly revision
One such vision
By my own submission
Is a doting memory
I’ll tell you that story

In the summer vacation

I used to visit my grandma’s bastion
The old village
Her house with seepage
The nights without power
Mosquito’s shrill louder
Damp, wet but sweaty
Indian monsoon gets ready
Mangoes bursting out
Litchis getting peeled within our spout
All relatives of town
Family gathering – that noun
The game of cards
Hours after hours within safe yards
The cattle’s bellow
Managed by some village fellow
The buzz of insects at nights
Crickets squeaking us into frights
The kerosene lamp
Men gossiping over vamp
Operating the hand pump
The coconuts were plump
Wooden sticks used as fuel
Kids relishing on gruel
Fish cooked in the evening
Gelling the family bonding
Grandma’s diktat were binding
Her demeanor but soothing
Kids acting bolder
Using granny’s shoulder
Parents miffed from within
Granny’s support to kids causing chagrin
Memories once again beam
If madam sleep is kindled
By such fleeting dream

Ankur