At will, I dig into that treasure of memories <br />Built at home till my early twenties… <br />Cycling to school at eight in the dense fog, <br />Wearing a short skirt and a maroon knitted top. <br /> <br />I guess all the exercise warmed me up, <br />Wore no stockings, scarf, cap or gloves. <br />Bare headed, hair flying in the air <br />We raced with gusto, had no care. <br /> <br />Rushed home and hurriedly ate snacks, <br />With the school bag still on my back. <br />Before I knew, my friends would call, <br />And I would run out to play basket ball. <br /> <br />Wildly chase each other and plot and scheme, <br />Daring the boys to play with an all girls team. <br />In summer vacations, we were up on the trees, <br />Neighbours would call us a bunch of monkeys. <br /> <br />Or aim at unripe mangoes with one eye closed <br />While the gardener took his siesta and dozed… <br />Oh, what fun it was to plunder and steal <br />And later bite into it after rubbing salt on peal. <br /> <br />Wistfully, I think of children in sky scrapers, <br />Do they miss open spaces and wonders of nature…?<br /><br />Mamta Agarwal<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-treasure-of-memories/
