Holidays are anyone’s love.
For me they are to a place,
a hill station, Coonoor
year after year.
Nothing can I say
to mom and dad
they being known
for strictness to the end.
The annual school year vacation,
two months of April and May,
I spent in the quiet town
punctuated by walks.
Mom’s soups and salads
trigger the appetite as the
vegetables are from
the kitchen garden which she nurtures.
Enjoyable in a way, I admit.
My cheeks turn pink, a welcome outcome.
The weather is salubrious
the environment appeals and appeases.
Monotony does exist at times,
but the pleasantness excels.
The break inspires and the joy
I experience knows no bounds.
Meenas Poems 