Last few days at A

Living on a tree house

With birds as the closest neighbors

My clothes dry on branches

And leaves ruffle with the opening door

Sunlight brightens the room

And moon lights the evening candles

Wind flows through windows

And sways everything along

Wakening of lizards tells summer is here

And small bats sometimes blindly crash

Crows are the roosters for me

And parrots are the colorful band

I raise my hand and catch few leaves

I blow a whistle and puppies I see

The red bricks feel so raw

Just like the untamed animal in me

Who doesn’t know which color it wants

But has possibility of being colored in every color possible

I jump under the shadow of big white balloon

And find my own full moon in it every single night

I take an evening walk at midnight

And pat the purring cat as it passes by

First step on Harvard steps and

you can smell the spring scent coming from the mango tree

The walls stand tall no matter what you are going through

They are there..To bang ur head against when tortured, to lean against when sad

To touch them slowly when amused, to look at them and smile when glad

Room 319 will be a testimony to what all I went through

‘Anu Dogra was here’ is what you’ll see on its walls, mirror and door

I came to this place to find a drop and what I got was a flood

In that flood, I lost a lot and found much more

The chaff got washed away and shining gems are all I am left with

One keeps carrying a sack with years of burden in it

And a flood once in a while is needed to rearrange that weight

Its not easy to see that sack being ripped apart and all belongings being thrown up and down 

To see your ferociously saved knick knacks being lost in a moment

But in the end its right and nothing else matters

So here I am back on the tree house

A place where I smiled frequently , loved passionately,

hated angrily, laughed madly and wondered endlessly

last few days left and God! Why these crows can’t sleep even at midnight??