I wake up in the morning,
With a dreamy vision,
Of beautiful Jasmine flowers,
And Begonias and Roses.
I remember the yesteryears,
Of the time when I was a youth of sixteen,
Living in a quaint dreamy colony of Delhi,
Woken by friends, who would yell for me.
For a run in the large park,
Adjacent to our posh colony.
We would all run in joy,
Round the four corners of this park.
I want to stretch my legs,
And run as fast as I can.
Just like those days,
When my legs could carry me effortlessly.
I jerk back in time,
To the here and now.
And try to stand on my legs.
But my knees buckle slightly.
I stretch my hand out,
And hold on to the wall,
My chest heaves with the effort,
It has taken me to stand.
I disregard this minor protest,
Of my body and my soul,
If not a run, I decide,
I can definitely walk.
I may not be a youth anymore,
But my body is still young enough,
To carry its weight,
On my buckling legs.
So a walk it shall be,
My first one after a long time.
Just like youth grows into old age,
My morning run has grown into a morning walk.
Like this poem a lot. This poem resonates for anyone who did early morning runs when they were young. The fog smog in Delhi makes it more difficult for the young to do this these days. But the walk is good. Thanks for this poem, the formal formatted display of the words, and the excellent accompanying picture. It projects hope for anyone and everyone.
Yes, it has been a long time since I have been to Delhi. From what I hear it has become extremely polluted. But I have fond memories of the running I used to do in the park adjacent to my colony there. Glad you liked the poem.