Glad I was in the rain,
Making paper-sails, wasting my papa's diary pages --
Written and unwritten, scribbled and virgin --
Dancing in the ripples of flood.
Glad I was in causing petty fuss --
Stealing sugar-quoted ovaltine from the meat-safe ,
Licking with the tongue,
Sneaking through the back-door as my mom slept.
Glad I was in odd-bits of mischief --
Taking cover and crying out in shrill voice
Like a siren, signalling the end of fasting time,
When the elders ate up and got transfixed
In the nasty blow of surprise.
I was naughty -- people would say
And I felt no insult.
Now, I am more civil,
Aging and sad