A living balcony
Every inch of space
in the small rectangular balcony,
seemed to be occupied.
I could spot...
a plastic dustbin in the corner,
unwanted stuff piled up on one side,
a couple of shirts, saris, uniforms
swinging merrily on the clothesline,
grandpa's reclining chair lying closeby,
grandma's plate of chillies left to dry,
a little tricycle earning some rest,
an overflowing shoe rack,
a mop stick tucked away upright.
but amidst the clutter,
spreading waves of cheer
from a cracked ledge in the corner,
I could sense a surge of green breath,
a small, green potted plant,
gleefully emerging
from inside a brown womb,
its green, layered robe
displaying a touch of elegance,
thanks to tiny specks of sunlight
painting miniature golden tattoos,
that chubby fingers clutching
the tricycle bell,
want to catch and hold.
in the small rectangular balcony,
seemed to be occupied.
I could spot...
a plastic dustbin in the corner,
unwanted stuff piled up on one side,
a couple of shirts, saris, uniforms
swinging merrily on the clothesline,
grandpa's reclining chair lying closeby,
grandma's plate of chillies left to dry,
a little tricycle earning some rest,
an overflowing shoe rack,
a mop stick tucked away upright.
but amidst the clutter,
spreading waves of cheer
from a cracked ledge in the corner,
I could sense a surge of green breath,
a small, green potted plant,
gleefully emerging
from inside a brown womb,
its green, layered robe
displaying a touch of elegance,
thanks to tiny specks of sunlight
painting miniature golden tattoos,
that chubby fingers clutching
the tricycle bell,
want to catch and hold.