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May 15th, 2026
by Anurag Mishra
That day it was... On this very soil, that dust-covered little boy Would brush the dirt off his skin And run back into the games of his tiny world. The stack of bricks was our stump, A crumpled paper ball, And that wooden bat— In those moments, my childhood was born. Yes... that day, the day of Diwali, From dawn itself, in my courtyard, Life played like the gentle fragrance of shiuli blooms— The same day my dreams glimmered like a shy mirage. Perhaps I still do not know who I truly am. Why does the night-blooming jasmine of those past days Still fall upon the desert of my journey? Its fragrance was the love of my heart’s beloved, For whom the doors of my soul were always open. In the pavilion of my childhood, Even now dances the fire-spark of those old days— Those water crackers, Lakshmi baans, And countless memories glowing like tiny flames. And truly, I— The tiny dust of today, I accept it. Yet once, I was a dazzle, And that too, I accept. The crimson of my torch Blooms like the very sun, Whose rays glow with the bliss of solitude That I still feel today. Suddenly I imagine those tranquils— But they burn my birth softly, Smoothly, yet elegantly. The bravery within me shines, Yet waits for its choir of chimes. The frost-beam of my blooming Becomes a burst of vastness. My life’s umbrella whispers, Oh master! Where am I? Don’t you know? And I suddenly soften, solemnly, By the tender smash of my spring— Oh my childhood... the moisture of my life.
About the Poet
Anurag Mishra resides in Raj-Nilgiri, Odisha, India.
Read the poet's biography and Young Poets World publications
on Anurag Mishra's Artist Page.
Young Poets Collection
This poem is also featured in
Young Poets Collection #2,
published in the Young Poets World Library.
Keywords: growing up, experience of life
Previously published in Young Poets 16 to 18:
Forgotten Windows
by Dhruvika Jain
Young Poets 16 to 18 is part of Young Poets World and waxpoetryart.com.
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