The Garden Hand
This spring we miss him,
his weeding, shaping our hedges,
mowing our lawn, doing the routines.
They tell us, he moved up.
He has a new house
with a green lawn.
We become pleased and sad,
envious and distant©All Rights are reserved by Kushal Poddar, 2010☼
The cubic space.
Pillows occupied my surrounding circumstances.
Books made a pillar
for my growing thoughts
allowed to kiss sun,
alone.
My toy telephone rung and rung
permitted me to touch the air.
The cottons blew up
shining in the light.
Pillows occupied my surrounding circumstances.
I remembered myself,
a sudden afternoon.
I sunk my head in the pillows
keeping in mind
my past childhood.
© copy right Arka Roy, 2010
