Orange Orchard

Orange Orchard

As a small child
Brimming with childhood
I strayed into an orange orchard
In search of flowers

There was this lingering aroma
Of ripe oranges all around
Sweet and sour
Flowers forgotten
In the ache of the moment

A tree with star shaped flowers
White, to be honest
With thick pulpy branches
And an ashen hue
Stood amidst the scent in the air
As I climbed on its branches
To escape the oranges

I know not
How long I stayed on the branches
Like a quadriplegic
With a wandering mind

As is usual in an orchard
One must turn left or right
Or lie still
Female monkey
Plastered to the branches
While dusk descended
Among perfumed oranges

The watchman’s whistle
Dents my senses
And the enigma of orange smells

A mental note is all
That is needed
To stay up in the branches
Or down in the dumps

Past the orchards of childhood
Innocent florescence
I am not too sure
Whether darkness travels
From the steaming grass upwards
Or falls with a thump
From up above
After the sky splits in two
Sour and sweet
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Voyage series & Other Poems 2007
Copyright @ Pen Books Pvt Ltd