• puchka 7w

    Childhood Calls

    I want to be little again,
    back to that home which,
    smelled of roast chicken,
    covered with gravy thickened.
    Back to mom spooning food,
    into my open mouth,
    while pages of Enid Blyton,
    I turned without sound.
    Back to the merry-go-round,
    sitting on wooden horses,
    dressed in frocks with sashes,
    leaving dust blown traces.
    Back again to Loreto School,
    run by nuns in white habits
    marching to piano key tune;
    daily morning assembly ritual.
    Back to the basket ball court,
    aiming ball into the net,
    misses, opponent caught.
    House games fairly fought.
    Return to the present.
    Old bones creak weakened.
    O wish could be little again,
    taste freedom, age has stolen.


    © Snigdha Agrawal