The reading glass
falls on the nose,
I adjust.
The swing screeches
needs oiling,
perhaps.
It is the morning sun,
mild, nice to bask
and read.
Encounter a difference.
A peculiar feel on the toes,
a nibbling.
Unmindful, I pursue,
An encore, find three
sparrows.
I drive them away.
They return. I go
into a reverie.
The days,
the youngest
on the lap,
the second born
clings with a grip,
whimpering,
the eldest is busy,
pulls the hair
with a vigour.
The sparrows have flown,
One goes to the farthest end,
the other settles in between, the third
chooses the nearest point.
4 replies on “The Unforgettable Days”
Great content! Keep it going 🙂
Thanks.
Loved it Meena
Thanks.