I see you still, dripping cold rainwater,

As you walk in weary, thin with shivers

Trailing  trumpets of  laughters

Rebukes and miseries,

Enthralled to summer

A rod and a bucket, a scrawny memory

Of a fish you felt was meagre

Enough to warrant a pardon

From consumptive sniggers as

Its bones cut our fingers.

Your little, immature souls were great,

You later learned the word magnanimous’

Bewildering Latinate simplicity

As was your pity

Self-pity

So intertwined because you were world.

And then we all grew up.

Advertisements