A summer’s day in September

 

Every time this summer’s sun

Shines in skies of blue,

How can I not get reminded of

The days I spent with you

 

Hot and arid, dusty days

Summer in your trail,

Furnace winds to blaze the gills,

Only cirrus in the sail

 

Yet, a dulcet voice that complained not

After the winter’s cold

Sang stories though, a lot of them

Were quietly left untold

 

The ones that sung, wove tapestries

In bricks of brooding red

As years pass by, some colours fail

To ever die or fade

 

They sparkle-shine, when memories

Slice a light on them,

Or come to life, all at once

In a nascent summer’s flame

 

September’s sun, so far away

Reminds of March’s love

It stays intact, I sighing smile

The sun still shines above…

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As spring begins after a chilling winter, the warm and balmy days – evident of a hot summer ahead - remind of days spent loitering in the heat and dust of Lucknow, both in campus built on red bricks, and in nearby villages of adobe, in the heart of Sitapur, kept alive in faraway Sydney.

26th August'23