Holidays


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.

 

 

 

 

 

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