The Garden Down

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu

The swirls of wind

Pass by the window glass,

As I sit on the 4th floor,

And stare at the grass.

I often long to go down,

And to feel, under the boots, the crunching maples

It might be the warm autumn day outside,

But, I am caged inside marble chapels.

I hear a cry or two of joy —

Coming from the garden down.

Oh! But I am chained by the coldness,

Of the falsely lively town.

I was choosing these chains,

Trying to stay connected inside

But now i hope a day will come,

When I can put it all aside.

I long to jump in the garden from here,

Be gone, marching and touring.

And be overwhelmed with joy;

My heart will be pouring.

By Harjashanjeet Kaur Sidhu