Under the Gulmohar tree after a tired day
Sits the tiny boy, looking at the immensity gray.
There is a pain in his right shoulder
Ah, the nights have become colder.
His incarcerated dreams
As his tired eyes fall on an ice cream vendor
But his heart feels like an offender
As he guiltily yearns for just one ice-cream .
The tiny daily wage earner
Who is still a learner
In the rough and tumble of life
And ceaseless strife
Once again locks his dreams
For one more night .
No longer yearning for an ice cream,
He will have it at a later time
In a better clime.
When he has learnt to tackle
The different roles assigned to him in life’s pantomime.
No more ice-creams
Resolutely , he licks his lips
Staring at the plump boy, hands on hips
Greedily slurping ice cream upon ice cream.
He quickly closes his eyes on the dream.
He needs to send the money home
He says to himself, wistfully looking at a distant dome.
No , an ice cream cone
is not a leprechaun.
Who will lead him
To his stash of gold hidden beneath a rainbow
This he must know.
Sleep my dream, sleep, he tells his dream.
No more will I yearn for ice cream.
He also promises his friend , the moonbeam.
As darkness descends
One lost owl flits about
Like an idea in doubt.
A mangy dog, in sympathy tries to look mangier
And the music from a nearby eatery becomes clangier.
A bloated frog swells out its vocal sac and croaks.
On his dream the boy chokes.
The ice cream of his dream melts
Into nothingness .
And the boy closes his eye on the dream
And goes into a REM sleep.