How I miss the winter mornings of the hills
The lazy rising of the city
Foggy moist air all around
Small Fires burning outside the tea stalls
A few bold people encircling the warmth
Talking from current affairs to world politics
With steaming cups of tea in their hands
Heavy checkered blankets and caps wrapped around
How many glasses of tea they would drink
Even they would not know
The woody texture fills my nostrils
When I think of those times
How I miss those lazy mornings
Would I be able to experience it ever again ?
That is where my heart belongs
In the deep pine mountains
I am not a city person
But then the destiny never asked
What I want ………
Our spirit may have free will
But are we not slaves ?
 Shimla – my childhood connect
Copyright (c) 2022 Namrata D Prabhakar
In the World of Thoughts 
You’re asked a fundamental and universal question.
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