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Upon Returning

I walk into a small world
Frozen in time
Colourful anticipation
Strewn across the table.
Books abandoned,
Homework uncared for,
But memories made.

A wardrobe still open
From the frantic searching
For a dress,
The bed, the blanket, 
In a state of disorder,
Quite the mess.

But dopamine still hangs in the air,
The sparkling me of a different hour,
A different time, at a different pace,
Eager indeed to leave this place

Only to now return and recall 
The things so trivial and so small,
That I never realised I’d been missing,
Until, at last, upon returning.


More By  :  Rupashri Chatterjee

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