Sunday Poem By Aneek Chatterjee

First Day

This rocking chair

was a gift from soft sunrays

This book of poems was carefully

crafted by chilly winds

I never knew that green grass

of this small lawn had

so much vibrant aroma.

& the purple bougainvillea

planted thousand years ago,

had such irresistible gravity.

I can’t leave my rocking chair

I can’t depart from my green grass

My poems pulling me back

to the chilly air

& the clear blue sky has told

all purple bougainvillea

not to allow me to say goodbye

to this happy languor …

Because it’s the first day

of the year

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