Dreaming about 'Neverland'

Dreaming About the Neverland

I am often accused of being dreamy,
And running away from the reality,
But, tell me, please, what should I do
When I see unhappiness around me,
Along with hatred, violence and sorrow,
People living as if there's no tomorrow!
I believe in God, but, am I mad
For being angry with Him when I see
My mother down with a dreaded decease,
And gasping for life every other day,
Or when my dear class-mate is hated
Because she prays Him in a different way!
Sometimes all this overwhelms me,
So I go to my college's chapel,
Not for praying but because
It almost always is a lonely place,
Angrily bang my fist on the pew,
Shed tears, then look out of the window
At the clouds wafting in the sky,
And start dreaming about the 'Neverland'.

© Portia Burton

He Looked Sad...

He Looked Sad and Worried...

He looked sad and worried, so I asked:
'What's the matter, are you worried
About the impending winter's onslaught ?
It will eventually come, but for now,
Celebrate autumn with golden leaves.'
Looking at his own reflection in the lake,
He said,'Yes, I'm worried about the winter,
Not for myself but for the trusting birds
Who have made me their sweet homes.
When the winter takes away all  my leaves
Making my branches bare and brittle,
What will happen to these delicate creatures?
Though some might migrate to other lands,
Many will rot in the dust among my leaves.

© Portia Burton

Bed-time Stories

Aiming For the Peak

O Wandering Cloud!

The CLoud

The Cloud

The moving shadow of a cloud
Covers me, and, startled, I look up.
On seeing the funny shape of that cloud,
My heart becomes light, tends like a bubble
Towards it and the blue space beyond.
I am instantly overwhelmed
By the grandeur of the infinite sky
And the earth spread up to horizon,
As if trying to sip its blue!
Involuntarily I  get attuned
To the gentle humming of the wind
Among the rippling  blades of grass,
Who urge me to lie down on their bed,
Their tickling brings warmth to my cheek,
Making me relaxed, filled with a feeling
Of getting melted and dissolving
To become a part of something  I can't name,
But it matters not, as I now feel
That very cloud  moving through me,
How my heart gets drenched in its shower!

© Portia Burton

Ode To a Skylark

Ode To a Skylark

Isn't it a lovely scene!
Flowers swaying on the breeze,
Ignoring the droning nosy bees,
Foliage is green, lush and dense,
Vanes cuddling the bramble fence.
Shh, my heart, hold and hark,
There I spot my skylark!
Come, birdie, sing me a lay,
I'm tired of that jabbering jay,
But, tell me where you have been?

Have you forgotten your promise
That you had made the last May,
How I cherish that fateful day!
When you stared longingly at me,
As if asking for my company,
And said, 'Listen, I'll take
You to that unique mountain lake,
Where dwells a solitary swan,
Who sings at the break of dawn,
To him I will take you, O miss.'

But soon the spring was sadly over,
Autumn came to brown the leaves,
Stalks were bundled in clumsy sheaves,
Then hoary winter came along,
Determined to stay for very long,
The sun rose late in the East,
Fearful of the morning mist,
Trees became leafless, lean and sad,
Mourning the glory they lately had,
You too weren't seen at my door.

But, spring is here and so are you!
Now for our friendship's sake,
please take me to that distant lake,
Ask a fairy to use her charm
To make me small without any harm
Like those Lilliputian things
So that I'll sit on your wings,
Together let us merrily fly
across the span of the smiling sky
Until that lake is in clear view.

Put me gently there on the ground,
I will tiptoe to the languid lake,
Hope that swan is wide awake,
Basking in the morning light,
His white plumage shining bright,
Will he give us a warm welcome,
Or frowning at me, become glum?
No, no, he will welcome us,
And sing his song without any fuss.
Hope there isn't any other sound!...

Oh, but why are you flying away,
Leaving me in tears and dismay?

© Portia Burton