By Himanshu Ahuja
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The fire of wintry cold,
Succumbed to the water,
Poured by the sun,
As rays unfold!
One fine December noon,
Knit myriad emotions,
Like flowers in a festoon!
One by one, with gusto and zeal,
We stepped on the terrace,
With our chores and meal!
Post hot Dal and Chawal,
And a glass of buttermilk,
The elderly ate the Gajak,
While the kids ate the Silk!
The Mom weaved the sweater,
The Dadiji made dosa batter!
The Dad was glued to his mobile,
While the kids gossiped with a smile!
I sat down with my diary and pen,
Amidst the noise and mayhem!
A story in progress, I could feel,
My labored effort, yet effortless zeal!
A perfect plot over a chai so hot,
A few characters cleared my block!
So many noises as the kids screamed,
Paved the way for the opening scene!
A heap of fenugreek leaves,
A bowl full of peanuts,
A charpai placed for a quick nap,
Obstructed yet triggered my mental map!
Sometimes, there’s a chaos in isolation,
While sometimes an isolation in chaos!
We don’t create stories, we are the ones,
All we need is to observe once!
A perfect noon on the terrace,
A quality family time,
We all were together,
And this story was mine!
Amazing Poetry 👏
Well crafted – so raw, so relatable!