Again and Again…

Again and Again

Again and again, I hear the soft footsteps, that of
Someone arriving through the portal of my dream
Again I hear the gentle drone of a golden flute
That of someone playing in the garden moonlight.

Perhaps it is the rustle of dewdrops dripping off
The tender limbs of shrubs in the morning glow
Or the lazily wandering breeze may be stroking
The strings of my heart with its soft, dainty fingers.

Could it be the rapture, trapped in my dreamy eyes?
Letting the wings of its doves to flutter so gently
May be the mirage of my life has turned so vivid
As it lets the adit opens wide, yielding a clear vision.

The glowing dusk may be donning a dash of vermilion

On the beaming forehead of the rising young moon
Or the singing crickets flying around the garden
Might have murmured a naughty tune in my ears.

As the thunder shatters the cushion of dark clouds

And the lightning splatters the gently showers
The call I hear may be of fear, of the rage of Nature
Or of delight, rejoicing the glorious ritual, celestial.

Was it a cold breeze that braced the rivulet near by

Or a warm embrace from the shower of soft petals
Which aroused me from my sweet, deep slumber
That I felt no remorse, just love and a desire for all.

The lilting tune that revived melodies of childhood

Tender love that nurtured my body and my soul
Waiting for nothing in return, not even memories
Love akin to that a mother and no one else can give

The bewitching mind, may have flickered in delight

Like radiant flames, glowing from a shimmering lamp
Or someone may have whispered a secret so sweet
That the enchanting one is arriving to the envy of all.

Again and again, I hear the soft footsteps…

(Courtesy to Malayalam poem)

Author: Dr. Venugopal Menon

Was born and raised in a loving family in pre-independent India, became a doctor, served Indian army, got married, then came over to America with wife and a daughter, established as a successful Allergist, raised a family of three children, was involved in many social establishments, retired, and wrote memoirs, 'My Mother Called Me Unni, A Doctor's Tale of Migration'.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: