Announcement: The results of Wingword Poetry Competition have been declared.

Father

DEBANGANA DAS

 

when i imagine you,
father,
as a child,
i see you in summer,
with watermelons you crushed,
under your feet,
while trying to play football game.
i hear you laughing, through
the sweltering heat in the garden filled
with coconut trees, a sound like the,
jingle of keys, while,
your mother on the steps of your roof tiled house, laid dried mangoes on dusty newspapers.
i can see you on the asphalt streets,
barefooted lanky teenager,
heels pink with summer heat.
you were always a summer child,
father,
with your tanned hands, rough around my wrist when crossing streets,
and your sundrop lips that sung me songs to sleep,
and laughed when i hugged you from behind.
you loved like summer too,
harsh at twelve noon, blinding
summer haze that quietenes the room,
your eyes glower like ten billion suns,
but on evenings you bring rain,
tapping on my window till i let you in
to drench my soul.
you pick mangoes and coconuts,
felled down by the evening storms,
your eyes dewsoaked yellow flowers
on wall creeks,
and you sing an ancient song while
i doze off against the window sill with the old 'Oliver Twist' that you read in school,
with dreams of summer mangoes,
Oliver and you.


1 comment

  • BEAUTIFUL ❤

    Garima Tripathi

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