A Scroll Of Memory Poem by Ananta Madhavan

This October is for us a season of gauzy veils,
Like Memory, a scroll erasable; but we cannot decide
What to remember and what we'd rather forget.

Some days when I wake up betimes,
I like to greet the day and see the misted sun
Begin to permeate the dark of dawn,
As it seeps into this latitude. In the sky
The blotted grey-out turns a pallid blue.

Tulip treetops loom with dots of orange bloom.
Coconut fronds emerge and show their spikes.
Early birds have had their say.
Eagles have flown north-east. I await
The fledgeling flash of parakeets,
Testing new wings along a withered branch.

I do not want this memory erased.