December days in Bangladesh
Are the best of all!
Short and cool,
The gardens all around colourful,
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We receive many promises in life
Which are made not for keeps,
Though they are made
With the warmest hugs and kisses.
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My city, Dhaka, is in cold spell now.
As in most other countries,
January is the coldest month here.
Yet, our cold is nowhere near yours,
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She is a distant dignified beauty
That constantly beckons to me.
Her ethereal words reach my ears,
Coming like the music of the spheres.
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When I hear a cuckoo coo,
With that I can hear you too.
When you see a bird in flight,
Do I too, fly into your sight?
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A crow is not the cutest thing to see,
It hardly holds any fascination for me.
Still I despise it not from my heart,
As I find it clever, alert and smart.
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I was all ears!
To hear a call from you,
To hear your soft whispers,
To hear your sighs you let go.
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When you write something,
I immediately get drawn to it.
I get overwhelmed, stirred
By the words you write,
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In my childhood days,
I used to see my dad come back from work
In the evening, and relax after having a wash.
Reclining on an easy chair in the courtyard,
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Salute to the senior citizens
Home and abroad,
On this day, October the First
The Intenational Day of Older Persons.
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