Indian Summer

By Areeb Ahsan


The brine sweat 
Dripping down each cool breeze from the anatomy
The slow commotion ceiled fan
Trying the level best to produce some wind
But, oh! How sorry could you feel for such a failed regular try.
Though here I'm, to compare you with the high tech Coolers and Air conditioners.
I seek apology, but for such beautified Indian Horrible summers 
They are the perfect functionaries.
Indeed, I do remember the old fashioned vintage car,
Where the windows were hatched down towards the belly
And the congenial loo could be felt
As a hot puff 
Notwithstanding the same condition
The tint glass and the unmanned engine
Chilled seats of the car have caused a blurring memory of thee fusion.
Grandmom's echoes raising the walls
All over for the homemade green mango juice. 
The footsteps desire to race towards the kitchen were the unique competition for gulping the best.
Pardoning from the mechanical climatization
For ruining the streak of happiness
Though in the cool packed room with tetra fruit extract,
The memory of old fashioned Indian summer
And the vision for it's Invision has augmented to lack.
This poem won in Instagram Weekly Contest held by @delhipoetryslam on the theme 'Indian Summer' 


  • I love this!

  • Great work

    Riya Patel

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