The forgotten beautiful past.

The music that I  heard while walking
On the dry leaves of autumn
The same I  heard
With body laden in heavy clothes
When walking carefully on scattered snow
This ice is loose somewhere
Produces a sound of splash
Reminds,
Back to back falling steps
A trail forms in the middle of the ice,
Covered from head to toe in uniform, Hanging bags, jumping on the trail
On the ice heap nearby
A sweet warning of my mother
For walking straight and not jumping on the trail
Snow made us naughty,
flashbacks of childhood memories
Crisscrossing the ice to make balls
Sometimes Slips and telling lies to mom
Despite the instructions, love all the sounds of
‘creak, splash.  .  .Sh.  .  .Sh.  .  .’
Music to my ears
Makes me stop by and reminisce
The forgotten beautiful past.

© Maya