On The Balcony Poem by Cheryl Jacob

I sat on the balcony
Of a house on the canal.
I sat there and heard
The stream flowing by.
I sat there and imagined
Of a time and place
Where none existed
But the stream and stones.
I sat there and imagined
A time where there was nothing
But the forested thatch.
I sat there and imagined
The world of Ruskin Bond’s pen.
As I sat there and imagined
The spring of Uncle Ken’s steps,
And of the riding Bond,
Lightness came to my smile.
All is had to do was sit and imagine.
Slowly I opened my eyes, and
Saw the Bond and Uncle Ken’s footsteps fading,
The stream was but a trickle,
The forested track only a small hill.
Gone was the fragrance of the woods
In its stead was the clamber of humans,
And the smell of dung.
Yet I sat there and heard the trickle
That will too soon go with the walk of
Human abode.
What to pity is the question that hangs-
Those who are homeless or the fading greens.
Human rights up against the Environment warriors
But the question is not for us to bother
The thin line is yet to be crossed,
We’ll see then who wins.
But the footsteps faded long ago.
And I sit and dream.

© Cheryl Jacob November 11,2011