Your trouser legs safely pinned up,
hat tilted to one side,
the sunrays playing with your salt and pepper hair.
“Care for a ride? Come hop on to the carrier.” You offered.
Your hands on the handle of your stylish bicycle.
So strong.
“Remember, how I taught you to ride a bicycle,
you used to be so petrified.”
Then we guffawed together.
“I remember how you used to climb up to the ridge
of the roof and straddle it; such a prankster!
With a big pout, you clambered off the roof,
when I shouted at you”.
You again tilted your hat at a rakish angle.
“This is what your generation calls swag.” You chuckled.
“Dad, which generation are you talking of, huh?
I am no longer young;
I know, your tongue was always wedged in your cheek.
You exist in a time warp, dad.”
I swallowed. You were gone.
So soon? Stop, dad, stop.
But, you hopped on to your bicycle and were gone –
Superb! One of your best, Santosh.Vivid and poignant.
Thanks Vijay Nair sir
An engaging and evocative work.
Thanks so much Louis Kastakin.
Good work. The bond between the Dad and son seems to tune along the lines.
The sad facet of life……….we all lose parts and parcels of ourselves and life expects us to deal with it!