Childhood. . .

I heard a sound, that came with birds,
it was a swoosh beyond my words.
it came as smoke on the town that slept,
but he was cleaning as he swept.

his motion was slow and clothes so old, but,
treasurer of contempt as his eyes told.
He came at dark and stayed till dawn
and in return he cleans ones lawn.

The sun on track and so were the birds,
the summer had started walking backwards,
I was late to school and rushing I went,
winking those days that i had spent.

A quarter to a century with the same sunlight,
the air, the birds and the cooling sunrise.
The trees are red and snow it may come,
for my kids that live and sing London.

Street so quite and lush of green,
my children urged me to make brownies,
I went inside and brought a spice,
they loved the malai and ate it thrice.

I asked them would they see me child,
they hugged me tight and packed like wild
and so now i was going to Bombay,
in years after my that birthday.

We reached in time of four o clock
and as we got down to my block
I heard that enchanted swoosh again,
my world again, my childhood stain.

The Journey

So cold it felt moving on my face,
it dried the sweat in its old long pace;
at afternoon in May the sun was harsh,
I sat there tempted by moments of marsh .

The thud then began and so strong it was,
thudding it came and blew the pause,
the steel on steel marching it past,
and gutting the weight it slowed at last.

As snail it moved and stopped so far,
we got up then and went at par,
the pastel in film with khaki and yellow,
it was standing on gauge, known narrow.

The people in red helped us good,
with badges of steel on their arm it stood,
and some so old but walked to earn,
with years of wrinkles and wisdom they yearned.

Another cool breeze it came from behind,
and threw my hair on the face to unwind,
I managed my hair and turned to side
to see a man with a limb denied.

But he was brave and walked with one
with luggage and heart more than human.
The steel on roof, the pillar and track,
it took the weight of trust on its back.

The clouds of steam it came with a whistle,
tearing from the announcements to throttle.
Man and women, children and old,
people were waiting for something untold.

It was one's life and story that began,
no one had asked for this plan.
I came from you and will hence continue
to make this tale, which will renew.

The boy to wall with rags he sat,
with puppies as friends and one as cat.
Then holding my hands I was taken inside,
with isle of people so restless inside.

We found our place to take ride,
but, i like the smell of life outside.
Now their i go, with the train,
hoping these days would come again.

A day remind

I run behind my friends so fast,

that I trip my way and fall in past

So to my grace, I find my mind

to leave me then to a thought remind.

The day of lord 1939 Saturday,

this boy of gold in his mind

He had a dream to make a way,

for which with mind I declined.

Ten years down I heard a sound,

it was a bird in the cage.

I heard him but I didn’t respond

and time had passed from teen that age.

Then thousand more days that day at dusk,

a lady so fine in old of her.

A simple gesture did she make,

which so major I dint take.

Another time was given,

by the holy sound of repent;

I heard him fine in my mind

He sends me back to places lined.

I come back sound on this day,

running behind my friends again

and happy I am where I lay,

for tons of wisdom to my gain.