By Ayati Srivastava
The juvenile of the flowing summer breeze,
Worth a bit my memory,
Playing along, showering my childhood,
Along with my cousins younger.
Running down the slopy hills,
Gliding down through flower blossoms,
Mesmerizing memories,
Through any longing desire.
Smiling and looking at those memories,
Put me in upgraded version of life,
Those smiles on each of our face,
Takes me back to those reminiscence and
Light a spark inside my head.
The love within ourselves for summer,
Worth a bit my memory,
Those memories and reminiscence,
Worth a bit my memory.