July
Why do you come so early?
So early, with no relief.
The humidity in the air,
The heat clinging to everything,
Making a hell on Earth.
The wind doesn't feel like wind.
Sweat drips down every face.
Linen and cotton—
Are tired of providing coolness.
The patchy clouds
and a glimpse of drizzle—
Giving hope to survive.
Clothes dry,
But the wetness lingers—
Always reminding me of the class 9 science textbook, the first chapter
.
.
How were you in my parents' and grandparents' era?
Did you torment them like now?
The trail of red ants made a home in my kitchen drawer.
They feast on my peanuts and walnuts.
Why are you playing with us?
Who is happy?
The plants?
The adults?
The couple?
The old men and women?
The kids?
The saviour of Delhi’s people
is only the AC.
Do I like this saviour?
Unfortunately,
YES.
Would you please,
Be a reliever for a while?
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ReplyDeleteYou've used beautiful metaphors, symbolisms, and naturalism. The entire poem is a work of art. Art for arts sake🌸. It holds a memory, a moment, a story within itself which we all can relate well. I love the second stanza, and the line with "the trail of red ants..."- Vivid brilliance!
ReplyDeleteThe open ended question reminds of of the fourth wall. I will never look July in the similar way. Beautiful work. May God bless you ✨
Thank you so much Di for always supporting and guiding me to become a better person and as a writer. You are the one who inspires me a lot to continue writing. Hope I will write more like this.
DeleteThank you, Di for your support and love. 🍉🩷🌸🎀❤️