A Spring Recalls

Comes in mind, the yellow sky
Crisp air, dry leaves fly
It must be a Fall,
I remember by
School vans wheeling, chirping us
Bidding good afternoons and goodbyes
Tired for the day, yet best of times
Hear mama’s call, ‘Supper first,
You have dance class at five.’
Alley and road,
Trailing mama’s toes
Rambling school stories,
Who’d the teacher scold!
Was it Cooper, or was it, Lee?
Or who’d chased a bumblebee!
Tune of guitars and dancing bells.
Smells like old pages
From grandma’s tales!
Footsteps clip clap hand drums beat
Small rooms darkish, candlelit.

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PS: Wrote this one a long time ago… could not complete, every time I tried, I guess flashbacks aren’t meant to be complete… will think about it later… read the glimpse for now…

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Photo: ©Moulina Bhattacharya

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