Seventeenth Of July

Last night,

In my sleep,

I saw a dream.

Yes you were there,

Strolling as usual.

A sweet tender face;

With a habitual smile;

Eternally optimist soul;

A generous persona;

I always adore!

I shouted from the end;

Of our cemented street.

But I guess you didn’t hear.

How could my voice, could

Not reach your ears?

I ran towards you;

Stunned looking at the one,

Whom I had lost

Ten years back.

This is intricating, I felt.

Finally a look from you,

Made my heart bounce.

But suddenly it stopped;

Yes, it stopped beating,

Though I had been racing!

Your prompt move dazed me.

How could you just

Vanish out of my sight?

I recalled your last shift,

Still snivelling at the view.

Did you want to invade,

What’s beneath the street;

Or see how I looked in agony?

Yes, you, again snooted,

This time, into the earth.

You didn’t give me moment,

To say those three words;

Which I’ve been saying,

On every Seventeenth of July,

Looking at our photo.

I crouched down at the spot,

Where you left smiling.

And uttered to the ground,

Not heaven this time,

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA!”