A tryst with mirth – Samyuktha Raghuraman

A-Girl-at-the-Fair

A Girl at the FairA pretty visage that was complete with a cherubic grin,

Ruffled hair cascaded down in a serpentine spin,

The nimble fingers were stained with candies and floss,

A ringing staccato, her laughter it was,

The flaxen lashes flapped from limpid eyes in sync,

Lips pout and rotund cheeks were hued pink,

Raven black balls rolled in the eyes,

A beholder’s delight she was,

A lolly perched between the minuscule jaw,

Crunched the snack with a sarcastic guffaw,

The immaculately groomed brow twined into an arch,

As she bounced into a sluggish march.

 

 

The bundle of energy traipsed to the Ferris wheel,

Giggled and jumped head over heel,

Ascended, as she into the merry-go-round,

Feigned a rather dramatic mirth of sound,

Cerulean blue frock she was draped exquisitely,

And blew iridescent bubbles majestically,

Palms with fingers as brush off in the air they skittered,

Painting the cobalt sky all grey and red,

Stunted feet were then back to toil,

As they were dragged endlessly to the cookie shop trail,

Whipped up chocolate kissed her mouth,

As she darted to carve pumpkins far south.

 

 

Time flew endlessly to watch her antics,

Bantering and sniggering at her impromptu frolics,

Watching the kid devour the cone and the crème,

Amidst the hullabaloo and the scream,

The heavens soon chasmed themselves to seven colors to herald the rains’ imminent arrival,

The bony beauty ran off to shield herself to my dismal,

The gleeful winsome child rejuvenated my despaired spirit,

Mesmerizing and casting a magical uplift,

A mauve balloon floated close by my palm,

Conjuring it beside me I planted it on the girl’s arm,

She beamed with all her might and left,

And it is what I call the tryst with mirth.

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


*


This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.