To William Wordsworth

 

Lying upon the couch today
dancing with the daffodils
(as one does!)
there flashed upon the inward eye
a day
long long gone by.

Lying curled upon the lawn
looking vacantly
humming tunelessly,
all at once
 I saw
a blade of grass,
a single leaf
small
standing tall
to kiss the sky.

Its glistening green and lemon light
grinned,
called me to play.

With each breath of mine it swayed,
whispered,
told me a thousand stories
as though it were my fondest friend.

Together
we giggled
a  gleeful  greeting  to the sky.

Your daffodils are grand, Mr Wordsworth,
but today I put them away
in favour of an old friend.

I’ve learnt to dance
with a blade of grass. 

Poonam  August 18