A Piece Of Creator's Art.
One lazy holiday morning,
When I was a silent small kid
with all the mischiefs kept inside
wanted to climb the small hill
nearby my aunt's home.
Those untouched red rocks were calling me
it read my restless mind plea
'what is there over you
i could only see the sky blue
when i peek through the window'
there the pretty white and yellow flowers
hugging the rocks says; we possess each other,
the unnamed unseen little beauty;
i would love to take a breath from you
want to kiss you
nothing else which bothers your splendour.
I grabbed a hand of my companion
my childhood companion
Climbed and climbed
I am there at last,
I couldn't breath
the beauty of a land made my mind hover
its heaven or may be its broken foyer.
The golden grasses aslant in the wind
and few trees old and strong on background.
and an antique piece of men's art
a half wrecked building halt
yet another tenure
named and seen everywhere.
year and years passed
am still amazed of that beauty of creation
the creator's hand is always perfect.
Topic(s) of this poem: childhood ,holiday,memory