Many a sort of houses,
On the route of night patrol.
A house with no doors,
One with many windows,
A home at an angle acute to the avenue,
Steel stills holding a parked car in an aerial view,
A crooked home with a spherical room,
A place to live with an open sky dome.
Many a type of vehicle,
Along the path of a motorcycle,
A bullet bike that does not move,
A listless ambassador, yet a visual antique trove,
A two-wheeler sitting inside the room,
A bug winking at all that zoom,
Bicycles hanging from the portico wall,
Two minivans parked tight in a driveway small.
Different sights of shops,
On the way of my periodic hops,
A shop that serves tea with bubbles,
A stationary shop where purchases are in bundles,
A jewelry store with many floors,
A boutique displaying gowns by the scores,
A steel shop with vessels hanging from the ceiling,
A quiet little shop where garments are all about feeling.
Many a sight to relish and gather,
As I travel on roads further,
A visual trove of memory,
Something to hold onto permanently.
Sreeyantha is a person who sees the world in all the colours of the rainbow. A creative homemaker who wishes to capture the universe’s beauty in poems, paintings and short essays. You can read a collection of her poems here.
Featured image credit: Pariplab Chakraborty