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The whiff of roses in the air, the scent of jasmine that I hold dear,
The laden boughs of the cherry & peach; signal that summer’s here.
Branches straining to accommodate, groaning & heavy with fruit.
Delicious mangoes, plums and chikoo’s; even lychee’s to boot!
The Banyan & Neem in foliage, standing tall & proud;
Oh! How they cool a wearied soul, with their shade like shroud.
The grass losing its veneer of green, Its Jade hues to the sun;
Oh! How we used to wait for summer, to spend all day in play & run.
I remember a childhood spent in the Hills, exploring the wood.
Ah! Many an hour we did spend, traipsing around all we could.
It was the time to frolic; laugh & rejoice as school was out.
Idyllic days were spent outdoors, deep in play & shout.
Summer the arid mistress, blew hot & furious too.
We would cool our heels in the hills as North India faced the Loo.
Anticipation mixed with yearning as father would disclose the yearly plan
And off us all would go, to the hills, our family & the entire clan.
This season brings memories from an age spent in content.
It reminds of days when we were carefree, had nothing to repent.
Ah! Summer with its balmy nights brought forth the folding cots.
On the terrace we used to slumber, under the starry dots.
Image via Pixabay
Sonal believes that life is a repertoire of anecdotes strung together in a colourful array,
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