Monalisha Mishra Monalisha Mishra

And now the cycle again,
Turns on when,
I lay in rest
Under the almond blossoms, in the chest.
 
I travel back through the narrow lanes,
Of my mind
Into the chuckles and games-
That I find
In my innocent face,
Away from the tracks of race.
When I longed for the moon,
That I thought, would catch soon.
When the only jealousy I had,
Was for the doll of that lad.
 
I never knew
When my jealousy grew,
From the lad’s doll
To the achievements of all.
I never knew
When my wishes turned,
From the moon to the money I earned.
I never knew
When my innocent face,
Slyly depicted a life of race.
 
Descending down to a child again
My tired body gave me aches and pain.
My wishes were again childish then,
For my son’s love like the moon of the heaven.
My talks were chuckles and works as games,
Throwing myself into my childhood days,
But then my childish heart stopped in its old body,
Leading me to this grassy lane
Where the perpetual cycles turns on again.

Monalisha Mishra

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Monalisha Mishra