In the New Year, bright, let those words trite
Remain unsaid, eyes closed , curled up in bed .
Give me those words untainted
Those faces innocent and unpainted.
Yes, I want words to sing those child-like songs.
Of those dulcet notes of the past, I want an encore.
Give me those soft, cuddly words, like never before.
Words, with the feathery touch of birds
Soft, soft, not sheathed in belligerence.
Let them lift me aloft on wings of innocence.
Those happy words tracing contours with tiny fingers
Ah, the feel of which still lingers.
I want words to serenade me with tales of sand castles
Of those days of yore.
When “What is the score?” did not imply people killed
But the number of runs in alley cricket, as joy spilled .
That buttery sand beneath my feet
When tiny ears pricked to the sound of
The squirrel’s heartbeat.
I want words to talk of the music of falling snow
And of the nightingale singing with full –throated ease