Monday, April 13, 2020

The Little Moments She Cherished

Day-13 NaPoWriMo-2020
Prompt: Non.apologetic stealing



                                                                      image: Sunita Prasad





"Where to start and where to stop?"

She looks at herself in the mirror and talks

About all those little memories she has stored

They visit when the heart wants to melt

Splashing into soft puddles at her feet

She feels his loving hand still stroking her hair

Whenever she touches any book

She remembers the  time she became a  book thief

That sultry summer afternoon marked on her being.

The first time he caught her

Stealing  one of his books

Eleven years old trying to read

The "Dream Merchants" a Harold Robbins thriller

He admonished her tenderly saying "You can read

When you reach my shoulders."

Destiny played her cards too early

And they couldn't share books anymore.


That month was special

Showing deepest respect 

To all those who taught the real  meaning of life

And made to stand tall in the face of the world

She would get up early in the morning

Just to commit a sin, 

An honest sin of stealing 

Beautiful flowers from the neighbor's garden.

She would lovingly gather the fragrant hues 

Bonding with small ferns in a  beautiful bouquet

With a huge exciting smile, she would rush to school

Oozing with happiness, a little girl in pigtails shyly presented

The bouquet of lovely, fragrant flowers

To her favorite teacher on the fifth of September.

.

There are many more tales

Deeply engraved in the grey cells

How she stole a poster of Imran Khan

From a friend's sports weekly

How she stealthily steal a few laddoos from her grandmother's pantry

Not to forget the number of times

She climbed the coconut  trees in the hot summers

A little monkey hanging on top with a toddy pot

The best time was ransacking the neighbor's orchards

Gleefully enjoying with buddies 

In the midnight on All Souls Day

Her village still resonates 

With her tomboyish tales

Cashew,chickoo, custard apple

Mango trees and many wild berries

On their trunks, they carry

Her innocently carved memories 

I know, I know, She spilled many beans

You can ask her mother, the number of times

She was caught stealing the fruits and berries. ;)




Participating in :http://www.napowrimo.net/day-thirteen-6/














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