Those Sundays in Winter

It is another Sunday in the winter.
I am properly tucked in my quilt.
I browse through the top headlines of the hour.
It says the temperature outside is two-degree centigrade and I quit
any idea of leaving my quilt.

Sundays in winter were my favourite days
and letting me play on Sundays my cookies
for reading properly for six days.
Those Sundays, which seem to be distant memories,
are some of my best memories.

Saturdays were the days of preparation.
Arranging bats, balls, and bicycles, at least four,
deciding time and venue for the action,
making strategies to sail us ashore-
were some important tasks to be completed before.

I used to sleep a bit early after setting
up a thousand alarms, in case I missed a few,
to ensure I woke up in the morning.
and then I would make a few
calls to wake up the crew.

Though while gearing up,
I would move as little as possible
my Mom would always wake up
and then I’d to wear all the clothes ‘cause cold air made you susceptible
to sick and sick made you feeble.

Before I could leave home, I had
to close the door as slowly as possible
because I didn’t want to wake up Dad
for he was predictably unpredictable
and it was too risky a gamble.

We dared not look into uncles ‘n aunties’
eyes while asking our friends to come to play
for their looks could terrorize
anyone. We’d then go to the decided play-
ground on the shared bicycles without delay.

Quarrels to bat at the top,
the endless running around to save a few runs,
‘barking’ on fellow players lest catches they drop,
heated discussions on run-outs-
these memories still give me goose bumps.

The celebrations after winning the matches and
blaming each other after losing were
the customs of the day and
mom made ‘chicken’ and a good after-
noon nap- a perfect finish for a day to remember.

A lifetime has gone by
since we last played together
and bade each other goodbye
but those memories still lurking somewhere
inside our brains adhere us together.

© 2016 Devashish Kumar

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Wonderland Asylum

This is such a wonderful piece! Light and simple, as well as telling a cute story.

¨Before I could leave home, I had
to close the door as slowly as possible
because I didn’t want to wake up Dad
for he was predictably unpredictable
and it was too risky a gamble.¨

I just love this stanza. ´Predictably unpredictable´. I love your word choice, as well as how you place everything.

My all time favorite winter themed poem, out of all of the ones I have read.

Outstanding work! Keep writing, you have such great skills and potential.