Indian Summer, Here I Come -Fullstop-
Once glorious, but now rusting buildings, lined every dusty road.
Somehow everywhere clung the smell of cow dung.
My heavy bag, a giant rucksack,
Most of it I shipped right back.
I thought there wasn't much glitz or glamour,
And fought rough in a bit of a clamour.
Tuk-Tuk's going tut-tut, the hawkers piercing eyes and traders raise the price.
Welcome to Mumbai!
First, I met Tony, who promised to show me,
All the sights and sounds and where stuff might be found.
He exerted Rupees and expertly duped me,
But for a guided tour, I'd have expected to pay more.
My first "queue" for train tickets,
I was newly in the thick of it,
Could they organise a straight line?
They're walking on the train line!!
The infusion of livestock into the traffic,
My confusion and shock, all of this madness,
Each to their own, but, who the hell planned this?
But first impressions are often misleading,
Best get some rest, a wash and a feeding.
An open mind, that beliefs, often null and blind,
Just might find, can lead toward the fuller life.
From the mountains to the Thar desert,
Everywhere, I found was rather pleasant,
Lived like a king, paid like a peasant.
The colours everywhere and flowers worn in hair,
The spices on display and price you have to pay,
Surprises me to say, she'd grown upon me more each day.
And I had five months to travel through,
I bid a sad goodbye India, I'll see you real soon.
On scented breeze, she'd whispered to me,
As her saffron voice caressed my ears,
She hinted with ease and flickered desire,
While cinnamon curls lingered from her hair,
and nutmeg sweetened my dreams.
Copyright © John-Ovan.P. Hull | Year Posted 2017
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