B Tsali Sama
By the window, I stood, to catch a glimpse of trail of golden Tithonias;
Facing north, below the city, above the narrow footpath leading to the shades;
The stretch looking forsaken but for those effulgent Tithonias;
Selflessly blooming in service to nature, above and below the road;
Basking in soft autumn noon-light;
Shimmering through its golden petals;
Semblance of a thousand splendid suns;
Often do I return, by the window, to catch a glimpse of golden Tithonias.
Cool autumn breeze carry its honeyed-vanilla aroma everywhere, jolting memories;
How often we played; with it, under it; once upon a time, in another town;
Jollied my childhood away with best of friends; building camps, sleepovers and midnight storytelling, whom, many are no more.
Sandwiched between two roads, above the brownish-tan grassy plain, hosted patches of golden Tithonias;
Often showered with blanket of dust whirled by the passing cars;
Only to be washed away with sparkling dews by the stroke of dawn;
And should I ever feel blue, by the window, do I return, to catch a glimpse of golden Tithonias.
