Today I gaze down from the sky,
A child I see and he looks familiar.
In dearth of space all around,
He runs diagonal and back on the roof.
There is jovial ting-a-ling of toys too,
As he searches for friends in dilapidated walls.
There are rivers coursing below,
And many puddles made of rain.
Torn out from stacks of old newspapers,
He crafts his boats and sets them afloat.
Holi is still far, but colors stay.
With Red, Blue, Yellow and Green,
He imprints arches of hands on his faded shirt.
Who has the bat? And who brings the ball?
This daily mess the playground speaks.
Ditched away at the far boundary,
Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.
Just the same innocent pair of eyes,
But now old and aided with glasses.
Today I gaze down from the sky,
A child I see and he looks familiar.
There was no electricity all night,
And with clock the light of the dawn waits.
Only the Sun will illuminate the darkness,
Rising lazily from the skyline.
Breakfast and the schoolbag get ready,
One day more with a safety-pinned shirt at school.
Legs hurt, but walk past hastily to the stop,
Not much time before the bus gets off.
Occupying the last seat on the left of the aisle,
The heavy bag safely lays concealed.
With the loud whir of the wings in the sky,
Carelessly peeking his head out of the window,
Dazzlingly he spots himself in the propelling airplane.
Just the same innocent pair of eyes,
But now old and aided with glasses.
Today I gaze down from the sky,
A child I see and he looks familiar.
