(64) A view from my balcony.

(65) A View from my balcony.

I curl like a cute kitten on the mosaic floor,
no smooth bed, no bed spread,
a terrible knock at the oak door
at the odd hour, relieves me from my summer siesta,
a pervasive peep through the balcony
with a cup of hot tea,
involuntary attraction for my eyes
on the dancing birds on the dancing boughs of trees,
the sight of pecking birds dancing,
pecking and dancing,
along with the dancing boughs,
in a see-saw way dancing,
a merry jollification!
yes! They swing and dance,
for the twittering merge on the leaves,
make colourful gestures!
The southerly wind sweeps through,
like aerial waves unseen,
yet, the force felt with gyrations,
an icon of splendid prosperity!
The hung up dried clothes , hurled
at the opposite poles,
a mini wardrobe washed away,
I cannot compete the race,
Yet the fast track of my eyes,
trace the upcoming hidden rays.