imagine

A green hill top..

A beautiful panaromic view.. of village rooftops and misty ponds,

Of distant mountains with snow covered tips, with pink slopes shining with the rising sun,

Eyes closed you can still feel the green around you,

Bare feet and warm grass do make a great combination,

Those dew drops make it all seem new born, Just created, like fresh baked cookies,

The scent of the morning is so heavenly, Sniffing at it gently, The greatest fragrance.....

The giant red ball rising ever so slowly,

The sky a light red, Like paint splashed on a canvas,

The gurgling sound of the stream nearby,

Fresh, Oh! so fresh, Sparkling, jumping water that you cannot see,

The cool morning breeze wafting on your face,

Made cooler by the warm water still on your face,

Dripping slowly, trickling down the contours,

A sudden chill, a sudden draft, A silent shiver,

But, wait, What's this?? Not cold anymore,

The blighting cold driven out by a warm hug,

You look down to see a pair of small hands,

Clinging tight, But reassuring and loving,

The hands of your love, your life......

Careworn and sagging,

Like a banyan tree a thousand years old,

But one that hasn't seen water,

Except by accident and that too cold...

We are thy slaves!! Oh! Master thee,

Into various shades beaten sore,

Most often black and blue,

Yet, We live on. Through your years and more,

Passing from hand to hand.

Cutting us mercilessly,

You call us by different names,

We adorn your beauty or rather vanity,

Saying yes to your dastardly games.

Among these million worries,

We remain amazingly wrinkle-free,

Yet you replace us by newer slaves,

When on your buying spree,

But they with shinier brows,

They too cry out....!!!!

Oh!! Sir and Madam too,

Give us a little rest,

Let our beaten colours be,

That is all our request,

For blue and not brown is as you say

"FUNKY”....