Neighbourhood /Ballads /Assonance



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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