Tinker of the milk man whose tampering
has broken daily, fresh water records.
The chime of the fruit seller cart where
the fruits were painted in the morning.
The gas cylinders unloaded nearby when
you had ordered one, a fortnight ago.
The newspaper thrown at your door by
the boy who vanishes into thin air daily.
The school bus honking, when the lunch
of kids is still made by the half-maid.
The laundry man dropping your clothes
wearing them before he returns to you.
The fish monger who pedals his bicycle
with lot of fresh ice in his long dead fish.
The lime pickle vendor with his jarring
having a mix of all except those lemons.
The mat seller who dusts his rugs for you
claiming the dust was picked in Kashmir.
The fire engine arriving at the front door
to contain raging fires at the back door.
The crows cawing out for their daily food
Voice of a city, a craving now, left in life.
Great description. Beautiful imagery. I loved the post 😊
So glad, to see you all liking it.
😊 great work as always!
What a beautiful read! Took me back to those days when life was simpler. And the dichotomy in concepts has been rendered beautifully into words. Yet another amazing work 🙌
Thank you for your kind appreciation.
Welcome 😊
Nice description.
Thanks Rupali.
Lively mornings!! I could remember this scenario in the previous place I lived.Thanks for the post Sunith.
Thank you Shahz.
Mention not Sunith, anytime😊
Hello again. Your poem is up on my post now. In absence of your reply over the title of the poem, I had to title it myself. Hope that’s OK. Please take a look at the post and let me know 😊. Thanks again
It looks good. Thanks Pradita for your support. I am in India now.
You’re welcome. If you’d like the tile changed, I could do that too. Please let me know 😊
It is fine Pradita. No need to change.
Ok, great. 😊
Very very good!!
Thank you so much
My pleasure!
A busy and lively morning! Very well expressed, Sunith!
thank you Pranitha, these are memories of old time Bombay