Being June Poem by Gargi DuttaKundu

Being June
the fickle minded drizzly strands of monsoon
moistened with your ideal and real self
of dreams, of ambitions, of endurance
as humid as the thoughts brewed
across the malevolent sky
fizzles by half asleep eyes at noon.
Being June
dull white sandwiches
prostrate on stark white porcelain
keeps life briskly alive
except for that soggy feet
and your favourite sandal
that sticks and dips into water filled puddles
but somehow held you happy to tread.
Being June
I hereby sit and brood over T.S Eliot
And thus stare at this “Wasteland”
Or so I feel.