Poetry

Sometimes it’s as if my childhood days come back
and it’s as if the colour and texture catches me
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things,
 
by the smell of flowers hanging in the air,
where I see clouds as flakes,
and it’s as if the colour and texture catches me
 
that is spread over the bright blue in small pieces
that brings me back to another time and place
where I see clouds as flakes,
 
and I am again full of joy and happiness
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
that brings me back to another time and place,
 
to the memories of my childhood days
when I see the summer sun rising golden
and the whole sky is full with specks between the blue and white
 
and the birds and insects are of the loveliness some proof.
Sometimes it’s as if my childhood days come back
when I see the summer sun rising golden,
when I am astounded by the sheer beauty of things.