As Summer Retreats
– Manasi Maitrayee
You lie in your bed,
barely taking half its space.
Underneath your favorite blanket
in its welcoming embrace.
For when the clock will strike 6,
you’ll hide and you’ll seek,
pocket full of roses,
tumbling down the highest peaks.
The days will end,
the time will come,
when you’re out and about in some place foreign,
indifferent to color, utterly numb.
Reminiscent of what was,
now it’s shred and torn.
The only fun you knew, is all but gone.
Seasons pass, as time must flow,
roses begin to rot,
as summer retreats.
But I’ll continue collecting stamps,
and trouble I will surely make,
old land once abandoned,
is still mine to take.
Wistfully as I linger,
tossing pebbles in nearby lakes,
to make it all count, for each stone thrown,
for the sake of the little bed
which I’ve long since outgrown.