Neighbourhood /Ballads /Assonance

naybor

 

The place hasn’t moved as much as I

Looks like its stood in the groove

Trying to lose its sleep to find its buzz

Mooning o’ er a past looming sans moving

*

Distance doesn’t matter, if you don’t lose focus

I move up high but… not the mountains

The mountain ‘s a jot of a dot in my steep ascent

Ah! The travails of traipsing the plains of childhood

*

The nostalgia of routes I travelled loooong ago

The narrow alleys & gullys of my green valley

They remember me too in a corner or two

I visit them often in the time warp within me

*

Journeying the winding neighbourhood

On dreary, sunny, sweaty summer day

Clutching tightly onto papa’s fat middle

While speeding by on an ancient scooter

*

Unseen by the shopkeepers whom WE saw

Selling their sundry wares to warring women

Watching through the slats of my hair

Buildings once clay & wood now cemented

*

A sweetmaker boiling milk in open pan

While exchanging how the health’s been keeping

Had now shifted work in back of shop

So no one can spy on recipes or flies

 

 

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