Swings (A poem)

My mind wandered off and rested on a swing,
Wooden planks, iron chains, strappy shoes and broken teeth.
Summer days would go mooching, painting and ogling (don’t ask me what)!
Cheering on plastic bottles, cola drinks, and cheap snacks from 
a hawker’s stall.

Hand in hand a hundred mile we walked,
Singing, and cribbing of things we had had not.
With each rain a silent letter would pass,
“Slip out at 3 a puddle outside waits ur call”

Short skirts and trimmed nails, we broke all missionary rules,
And once a year on X-mas eve we pruned and posed in chinos.
Such madness would prevail preceding an exam night,
Same madness prevailed no mattered who failed or who was right

Strolling through long corridors, all painted their future bright,
Some said doctors, some engineers while we decided to run away outright.
Not easy to execute such plan of humongous nature,
We stalled it for next year, when we would know the geography better.

Years passed by, and we did move away, some to south, some north,
Some headed and became what they thought.
One’s prized trophies and letters now tainted,
Rests on unknown shelf,
I clean a few of them and leave it to gather dust again.

On fleeting moments like these I recall all ‘passion promises’ made,
Like a wisp to dandelions
Passion faded away, empty promises remained.

My mind wandered off and rested on a swing,
Two little girls with butterfly lace, open smile

Swing swing swing….

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