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A Warm Handshake White clouds of steam rising as I exhale, The cold chill of a December morning, A nip in the air, clothing in layers Cold, half-clothed children on the sidewalks and Half-burnt fires dying out amongst people in flocks How different it was-- from the warmth of my Mother's place Where everyone was free to have his own space... Home-baked cookies, warm coffee mugs, Playing carrom on warm earthy rugs. Ah... to be home again was my earnest wish, Swimming in strange waters, was I a goldfish? Turning a corner, I spied an old man... Huddled in a blanket and braving the dust of every passing van He looked ancient, face full of wrinkles But in his eyes I saw a twinkle... He gestured me to come near, In my mind I was nervous, but there was no fear. His cold rough hands held a few marbles Shiny, sparkling pieces of marvel... A crimson red, a sea-green blue, A blazing yellow with a purplish hue My eyes gleamed, as he emptied his treasure Joy knew no bounds, I was full of pleasure. Suddenly home was right there, In all its brightness, lovely and fair... Living alone in foreign lands, Away from home, lost in timeless sands What makes life enriching are such chance meetings... A little joy, a shiver of thrill and A gay abandon for my heart to fill... Misery too had its glory and happiness was in every life story. How did he guess that's all I needed An endearing smile...a warm handshake No rich offerings, not cookies nor cakes I understood then...what life has to offer, Sometimes comes as a surprise... A beautiful sunset, and a warm sunrise.
~Priyank Misra~
Modern School, Barakhamba Road INDIA |
