fashion styled the centre that day;
wind ransacked every nook in town,
fingers mined deep within pockets in vain
warmth, when a bare belly crossed my way.
my eyes failed to see the face,
the swagger proclaimed : Youth walks past!
of a sudden from a distant past,
mother’s voice brought back the day,
against her authority I had set my face,
among the mountains, far from town.
winter lingered on, I tried to have my way,
springdress, barelegged –silly and vain.
counsel, child, is not given in vain,
warm till snow has thawed well past
Roof’, the tavern up there, the gateway
summit and plain where on a fine day
from the battle-grounds of town
peace under the mountain’s proud face.”
stern voice betrayed by a kindhearted face
reason steered me and in the same vein
about the temptations in town.
she bid, always the past
that my words, however harsh
wish that you fare well on your way.”
my younger days back upon my way
to the bold belly and juvenile face,
turned my thoughts and to how today
sense at the service of the vain
values and lessons from the past
to the latest fad in town.
the maze of delights and tinsel in town,
slippery ground to drift out of the way,
future of novelty is spelled “past”.
a mountain’s commanding face,
mused, still keep the fashion weather-vane
turning with any foolish puff of the day.
from town, to preserve our face,
had our way and other means to be vain,
may the past rest, let's move on today.