Lost Memories

I see the tea leaves in my steel container

And they seem like old friends; whispering

Forgotten secrets, as they turn crimson in

The simmering tea-pot. They transport me to

Paper boats on make-shift rivers; to curled fingers

Making imaginary binoculars; to bicycles

And biscuit picnics; to failed attempts at

Losing ourselves and discovering new adventures

At abandoned air-strips. To long winding roads –

Purple, dashed with little white spots at the centre

With rows of eucalyptus trees on either side.

To narrow mud-paths – slippery; leading up to

A broken wooden bridge. To stretching paddy-fields

As far as the eyes can see; freshly harvested.

There, I smell distinctly the scent of innocence

And I stretch out my arms trying to gather

The lost memories of a forgotten childhood.

Photo courtesy: leedyeah!