Thru scorching streets, that half a mile
Barefoot I ran, to the ice cream cart
Half penny bought, a smile worthwhile
If not the far-flung frills, from a mart!
That hired house, smelt of mustiness
And half a year, it took to dry
Yet a home, it was, my heart’s recess
Whose starkness, never dared to lie!
My last of joys, a cherry tree
Which never, bore a berry, though
Life’s not at all, the way we see
It taught, how it’s, the way we know!
How estranged seems, my bygone life
Where I lost to lust, that poise’s chase
How I yearn to death, with regrets rife
For The Beauty Of Those ‘Dearthy’ Days!
© 2017 Vikas Chandra