Walking through floating clouds in a vale;
Only sound of rushing water, as we exhale
Out the white smoke one day, early December.
With envy I watch hill folk walk at leisure.
Panting, with sore hamstrings, how far
Is the water fall; it will take just about an hour
Don’t rush as the climb is steep all the way up.
We sat on the unpaved road – huffed and puffed.
With a walking stick, carefully took each step.
Plucked some wild flowers, saw some spider webs.
Looking at me, he said we are almost there, don’t frown.
If you wish we can catch our breath and sit down.
Take your time; we can’t give up after coming so far.
Suddenly we heard the gurgling sound of water.
He tucked a few wild flowers behind my ear
See, that wooden canopy; we are almost there.
Enraptured watched the water fall; it was icy cold.
I saw him take off his shoes and hurriedly jeans fold.
He pulled me and said come on let’s have a shower.
Sneazing, chilled to bones; hills joined in the laughter.
Mamta Agarwal
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-walk-through-the-clouds/
