The Path That We Took

A narrow path it was, Gravel strewn, Lay quietly without any passer by. A loose chain was hanging Without any explicable purpose, Just to look like a prohibitive fence, perhaps. Tree boughs deviating from the main trunk Gave the semblance of a ‘welcome arch'. We took that path at the ‘English Garden' Of the Mount Dandenong on a Summer afternoon. A narrower stream barely visible, Quiely flowed along, nourishing the plants. On a wooden culvert I stood for a while, Listening to the chirping birds, Watching the frolicking, fluttering butterflies, Forgetting for a moment, my fellow companions. Time was running out, Yet we sauntered on, without hurry. Stood for a picture with a stone sculpture, Of a loving mother embracing her child, Hard stone that evoked soft feelings of love! Unoccupied tables and benches on the wayside, Made of sawed wood of ‘Australian Tree's Invited us for a much needed rest. We sat for a while at the mouth of the defile And read billboards explaining legends Of a ‘Wishing Well' and a ‘Wishing Tree', A history that we carried with us as memory! Dhaka 27 April 2020