A Wistful Malady
-Vidisha Tripathi
Garlands hug my neck,
Winged angels bug beauty,
My eyes roam taking in,
Admiring this fruitful home,
Transporting me back,
Toward late nights, and tame fights,
Childish laughter be heard,
Underneath a sphere of cheese,
Laying on the muddy grasslands
Grinning with teeth on our knees,
Longing the days contained by a haze,
Miss is too short of a word to describe,
The bliss our past had remained,
The withering fool I now become,
I look back at the freedom undone,
Embittered by such maladies,
Deprived of gleeful certainty
Solely left to wonder,
What tragedy had befell,
To be left to suffer in such hell