Hey, why do I thus trip and slip?
Ah, it is a chameleon with a stiff upper lip
Distracting me by its push-ups on a boulder
Oh, Suddenly the weather becomes colder.
Memory slivers, like snowflakes
Drift towards me tangoing, twisting, pirouetting,
Waltzing, twisting; Eyes misting
I see a girl under the neem tree,
looking at a stout chameleon in the verdant garden.
What is that commotion?
The hue and cry, and childish emotion?
Is that the ripple of laughter juvenile
Bursting forth from the figure fragile
Standing under that neem tree
Shining with a glint of spunky mischief
After a humongous tiff?
Some notes of old nursery rhymes
Of those idyllic and beautiful times
Still echo among the bushes.
Some old jingles mingle with new ones
Ring- ring-a- roses , a pocket full of posies
When we all fell down
Along with Humpty Dumpty
While all the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Wrung their hands helplessly near the wall
After Humpty’s ignominious fall.
Someone bending down to tie a buckle
Another hiding a chuckle
Muddles and cuddles splashing in puddles
Plotting in muddled huddles
When the rain refused to go and come again another day
And the faint glint of the sun after the unrelenting rains
was like the sparkle of ill humour
in the rheumy eyes of a cantankerous old man.
But we glowed and gleamed, shimmered and dreamed
Hopping and skipping away our puppy fat
Ah, what time was that?