That Mulberry Gust

Two curious eyes staring, behind from glass,

Panes of a window, which opened to a small,

Porch at the back, stood there in its silence,

A grown mulberry, the breeze made the berries,

Swing along to its tune, some fell on earth,

And brought a smile, on a little girl’s face,

She never ate them, but enjoyed their fall,

And the bower so fine, keeping the small,

House at dead end, wrapped in its cold arms,

An isolated place in world, it was hearth,

It was home, for hours she played under,

The shade of mulberry, and at night the,

Same tree was eerie, with its black branches,

Touching the panes, making the knock with,

Every gust, and the leaves whispering the,

Lullabies of night, even the gamut of twinkles,

Watched the little girl, still awake with big eyes,

How the night passed away, and days many!

When those days turned into years, and more,

Oh! Much long time had gone by, yore!

 Today standing in my galleria, melancholia,

 I wore, my soul’s attire, I found a saffron hued,

Mulberry leaf along with a dried berry,

The breeze had brought along, and had,

Brought the emotions of the days gone by,

Lying in the corner of galleria, speaking,

Telling me, its story in myriad mute words,

 I picked up the leaf, in one glance I was there,

Standing small in front of that big tree,

I saw that little girl again giggling, laughing,

I opened my eyes, tears resting on the sides,

Ah! She is still there, happy and carefree,

She still runs around inside and outside,

That small house, where even that tree,

Enjoys her company, and in mediocre here,

Left is all a nostalgic poetess, wandering,

In past lane, trying to find those lost moments, 

That the mulberry gust has brought along...........................

*Monalisa Joshi*