miss honest

A tiny seed bottled inside, once broke out into a poem. The poetess loved it so much that even the spelling mistakes were spared.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Indian Coffee House

Warm winters are here to be sold
Cool sun to be tucked in your purse
Take home coffee and lemonade.
Not for nothing old lady! Give
Paise, toothless smiles, wrinkled grace
And take our sweet lemonade home.

4 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

awesome:)
can see it actually in my mind's eye:)
love the feel of the sunshine tucked into the purse:) as i always think, there is a little bit of sunshine trapped in each of our souls--just that some choose to leave it there while others drip with lemon sununade all over:)
glad that your thoughts are being keyed in after that short drought:)
loony as ever:D

4:59 pm  
Blogger Archana said...

:) You know i have been dreaming about waking up in a room that glows with tiny suns.
In May over here, it is so hot that heat seeps through tree shades. The yellow fire is blinding, as we walk towards the juicewallah. Suddenly sun becomes a lovely thing to own. I thank God for making the lemonades extra nice. Summer has never been so nice!
I remember Bangalore's summer. The morning mist would look like silk! A delicious place it was. No season is bad there. And the rains are a bonus. :) Nostalgia!

1:52 pm  
Blogger Amit Charles said...

nice:)
keep it rollin;)

12:29 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is great info to know.

5:40 am  

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