A MORNING TERRACE VIEW

Terrace, a Mini-stadium
Four protective walls
Flower pots beneath
Colorful fragrant flowers,
Thick greenery all around,
Morning sun casting warm rays,
Occasional flying kisses of cool winds
Brisk walk from one end to the other
An half an hour “Odyssey”
Glimpses of houses around,
Mariam hurrying to well with pots
Drawing water with full force,
The post-mistress has to rush to bus stop to catch the bus,
Duty is duty, Duty is worship
Mariam knows punctuality is the motto of Indians
At the other side Chirutha
Lashing and washing the dirty linen
Chathu, her husband ignites
The Engine of the bike
With hooting sirens he speeds past to the road ahead
Shop has to be opened,
Business must go on, he knows
Markose, the driver at the other end busy
With his truck washing and cleaning,
Martha, his wife washing utensils,
A few feet away a sawmill roaring,
In the din drown the
Full-throated shouts of the laborers
A bane of our times
And the shape of things to come.
A warning of sorts
In the tranquil serene village
Neethu, the new neighbour
Throwing mischievous smiles
While moving from one room to another
A pleasurable sight.
Occasional look at the watch
How soon, half an hour gone!
I must improve the duration of the walk,
Thus decide for the day
And step down the stairs sweating.