A HOUSE DOWN THE LANE
It was that house down the lane! Though not this one in particular, it ignited a fond, long-ago memory of a similar one.
The reminiscences and nostalgia of that house with lush mango trees, gardens and greenery all around, a home which opened its gates and arms in a wide, warm welcome to anyone, be it a friend or foe. Even in the throes of her ruination, she made a grand exit and bid a tearful goodbye to us. In all benevolence, the moon had seeked out this happy place every night.
Now, its a shrine which she solemnly worships.
(100 words excluding the title)
©️ Sangeetha Kamath Prabhu
RIVERS OF MARMALADE
God's own poetry rolled out in verses of tangerine and marmalade with tinges of mauve and heather. Its a marvel to gaze upon the strokes, a celestial graffiti. Sunsets put on a show, spilling rivers of carmines and cerise. The fading hues---a goodnight kiss to the sky and a prelude to the much awaited indigo midnight. The sun has long since dipped into the sea. As the gold settles into the horizon as a muted sepia, the sky bids a brief farewell to the masterpiece which is replaced by a splatter of diamond dust on the velvety canvas.
Word count 100 excluding the title.
©️ Sangeetha Kamath Prabhu
BUGS AND BEETLES
Mention of spiders and cockroaches, bugs and beetles makes my skin erupt in goosepimples and bristles…! At a yard sale on a summer afternoon, Babylou and I went wandering through stalls without an intention of buying even a balloon. Suddenly her eye caught a grab bag of plastic creepy crawlies at a throwaway price. "Mum, please buy them for me, they're so nice."
I told her to hold the bag and not open it when I'm around for I might go berserk and wild.
An empty nester today, the red cockroach is all the reminder I have of afternoon outings.
(Word count: 100)
©️ Sangeetha Kamath Prabhu
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