Disruptive, obstructive, elusive
Change is what it is
Change is inevitable
Change is abusive!

Memory lane, boy, it’s a beautiful street
Lined with the trees of the times gone by
With cobbled stone just like the one in my grandmum’s porch
And scattered dried leaves for the times we cried

There is a distinct smell in the air
Just like the pickle in the jar that sat on that windowsill
The wind is warm like that tight embrace,
That helped heal me when I was ill

There are some flowers at a distance I see
They look happy, like the ones in my grandmum’s garden
There is that familiar holy basil too
That she plucked each morning for veneration

The lane fades away at a distance,
Dissolving into a mist of oblivion
The porcelain teacups and that pickle jar remain
But only till I am gone

So easy to tug and shrug
Sacred ties have no meaning
Have I changed or have you?
Us both you think? No clue!

Five dandelions bloomed in a terracotta ***, all sharing the same sun and water
Their roots were branched, and they danced, all together, like one

They swayed in unison with the wind and held to each other in rain
In winters they shivered, and sweated in summers, but stood together like one

But then came a fall when one of the dandelions, wilted away and died
They were broken, melancholy loomed, all remained but one.

They were never the same again, but time healed, and they revived
But there were no chortles, and no guffaws, just dull smiles…seldom

The smiles were transient too, and catastrophe struck yet again,
Another beautiful dandelion lost, oh what a fate destiny had spun

Three remained, but not for long, they all soon were plucked and pulled
Two went to woo a dame, while a glass vase homed the solitary one

The broken terracotta *** now bleeds, rotting away and forsaken
It’s nothing but clay and earth they said, it’s nothing without the dandelions

There’s a lull in the air, a calm before the storm
Like, something is peeping around the corner
a boogeyman ready to pounce
The heart is settled, but there’s white noise
Something is yet to happen

My steps are heavy, my breaths are slow
The languid strides have viscous blood flowing through the veins
The midsummer sun stares deep, punching holes through my flesh
I am not sure of what to expect
Something is yet to happen

A tsunami rises in the distance, the froth brews, the venom spews
A monstrous fatality that’s unseen sits patiently and waits
Life moves in a dazzling nonchalant flash
While I keep treading, unbeknownst; I feel it in my bones
Something is yet to happen