The Description

The stream seemed just perfect,

pale green water darkened by the absence of sun,

flowing without a sign of turbulence,

Punctuated by wee ripples.

Escorting it on one side

Was this dusty road,

Coughing every now and then,

Spewing out grime into the atmosphere.

There was this boy emaciated,

Walking along the road side,

Also along the river side,

Clothes tattered, deep in thought.

I stood there thinking,

What could be bothering this soul?

At an age so tender,

He carries heavy a pith.

Hardly a second passed,

Thinking about the lad’s thought,

My eye balls budged,

Bringing into frame the plantain trees.

Standing on the other side of the stream,

Were these green statutes,

Waving their limbs,

As the breeze combed them.

The mynah, the sparrows,

Also I saw, busy they were,

Preparing for bed,

After, perhaps a hard days work.

I stood there watching,

Amazed at the creativity,

Of the creator,

No one to match him I thought.

I stood there having no sense of time,

Until that hand jolted me to reality,

I turned and found my friend standing besides me, smiling,

I returned his smile and exclaimed.

What a Painting!