a poem about a place you have visited as a tourist
Panchgani
The vigour of mountain air
wraps you
Cold breezes frolic and play
with you, strawberry fields
hug you in an embrace
Prim cottages in a row grow
red heart strawberries, pulpy
and jelly-like to my touch
I pluck them, eat them
cannot get my fill of them
basklets and baskets full of them.
Their sweet, sharp juice
seeps in like tangy mountain air.
Later, in out-of-the-world
picturesque, fairyland you
I bask in open terraces
gotging on the delicacy
of fresh strawberry and cream.
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