a bird made a small nest
in the shade of staircase,
with easy access to
the outside domains,
.
I saw it again and again,
as I traversed through
the straight stairs,
rare chance that I missed,
.
my eyes never blinked those
sometimes I stood
in a sort of trance,
my hands limp by my side,
.
those straws and pebbles
would give rise to goose pimples,
as I pondered over this
clever crude creation,
.
it was my secret and still is,
to believe that it hoarded jewels,
diamonds and rubies,
ripe with a sheen of knowledge,
.
it was a basket for me,
full of wonders of many kinds,
I was a kid then but much
hasn’t changed today,
.
i have no memory of
when it was that those feathers
and twigs were swept away,
reduced to nothingness,
.
and now when I gaze at
that dotted starry sky,
I see a new constellation,
shape of that long gone nest,
.
even though I can’t recollect
much of what that time was like,
I just wonder at my wonders,
and wander as I close my eyes
.
* For Sunday Whirl Wordle 129. Also submitting the link for Poetry Pantry # 170. Also, this has come out to be the 701st post here.