The Stream

In my schooldays I had a stream to sit on its bank in cool air Tender fingers moving in my hair with grace in the form fair As I grew up the stream disappeared in order to make room For the needs of her moving times with new stems and bloom The other day an elderly lady called at my office with her team At first I was taken aback and then kept looking at the stream The same sparkle a little diffused in the eyes still lingers In my bald head I felt restlessness for the reassuring fingers For some moments I was focused on my memory shred Moist eyes looking in her face and blossom in purple and red ________________________________________________________ May 21, 2016 For: Last Line Prompt – 2 – Poetry Contest Sponsor: Julia Ward