Home » Poems » The Puddle

The Puddle

I brush away
the cold unwanted droplets
of the early monsoon
from my shivering hands
and stare at the puddle,
sipping my sugarless coffee.
The puddle stares back at me
with unwelcome memories
of paper boats and muddy shoes,
of hot milk and thunderstorms,
of a long forgotten childhood
and the warmth of home.

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