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
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