The Sunshine Garden

My mother in a corn field taken near New Delhi (my Sunshine)

I sat upon a stool in a garden of corn,

The winter was dawning the summer almost gone,

The ears on full bloom and sunshine yellow,

The garden was bright and beautiful mellow...

The air was rich with the scent of pines,

The falling leaves, the innocent vines...

The breeze swept over the cold water brook,

Carrying the song of a lovesick rook,

The soft patter of water on the white round pebbles,

The delicate delight of the distant dribbles...

The vivid view, the blissful scents,

The single birds passionate laments,

The falling waters softest sound,

Untouched, pure, the virgin bounds...

I played a note on my little black flute,

Short and timid, just a tiny toot,

Anxious of what it may sound there,

Disturbing the harmony of the air...

It blended in like a rich white pearl,

Sits on the bust of a charming girl...

And a song then I played utterly contented,

Incessantly as the notes fitted,

It grew with the lyrics and music undefined,

The rising pitches and chords refined...

And it rose with the breeze of the coming winter,

Overwhelming, persistent sometimes bitter,

It talked of people and their unrelenting search,

For love and care and laughter and mirth!

Of a single mans wishes And his lonely escape,

Of the innumerable riches and all that he craved...

And so the bright mellow garden of corn,

Drowned in the song of a single mans mourn.

The vivid views hazed, the scents blissful no more,

The single birds passionate laments were sour,

The beautiful garden in which I was sitting,

Had no more the virgin beauty worth a shilling...

Can also be seen at The Imaginary Garden With Real Toads for Open Link Mondays!!