THE GUAVA TREE

The guava tree, if one

Could remember,

Always  came with

Four skinny legs

Hanging down like

Limp tentacles

A pair, fair with

Silver anklets and

The other, dark

With painted toes

Old times,

When dreams sprang

Like tender leaves

From the tree

Soft, waxy ,fresh-green.

When all the cuisines

Of the world,

Shrank into a ball

Of soft sweet pink pulp

In a lush green coat!

When the seven

Wonders of the world,

Took the shape

Of an arm-stretched

Guava tree.

When life was

Tied around a tree, and

Went round and round

Around it, carefree and wide-eyed,

Bare-foot and sun-tanned.

Now,

When I look down,

My feet are sunk deep ,

Into the discomforts

Of a stiletto.

Just one pair of stiff legs.

I look around.

I see walls.

I walk to the window,

                                                                        Sipping the tasteless fine-blend.

                                                                       I push it open, to see

                                                                       A million more walls

                                                                       Frowning back at me.

                                                                       Shutting me out.