Seasons come and go.
Morning sun flares on window panes,
rows and rows of them, blank stares of buildings
that soar like giant monsters into the sky.
I peep down from the twenty-first floor,
a maze of roads, networks the landscape,
cars and buses move like toy midgets,
traffic lights, flash red… then green
marking the start of a journey,
that is a microcosm of endless activity—
a beginning that has no end.
We retract like snails, into our shells,
oblivious of the world around us.
Summer slides by
giving way to another season, another way of living ,
New thoughts and zoned in milestones—
like a wave surging into the ocean, then a second one—
revealing distinct horizons , hazy dreams.
Sun-kissed berries and rosy peaches,
the honey-suckle laced air,
drone of the bumblebee,
the tickle of ruby-red wine glasses,
rush past me like pictures on a Facebook,
now a mere speck of memory.
Seasons come and go,
the kaleidoscope of Life rolls on.