It was an early rise for me,
Birds chirping with a cool breeze created a hub,
The energy and excitement through my actions,
Were silently asking my dad to hurry up.
Yes, It was a Sunday.
But he had promised to take me to the park.
Excited, I kept hopping around the home,
Even my dad realized by seeing that spark.
As we walked,
the cold breeze became more intense.
Soothing to the skin and relaxing the eyes
With my plastic bat and an empty road ahead,
I started with my imaginative six-hitting shots,
For which my soul still thrives.
We reached the park soon,
When in the sky were visible,
Both the sun and the moon.
Handing over the ball to my dad,
I took my batting stance.
1 hour for him rolling his arms,
And me, striking the ball as if,
Everyone was watching me from a glance.
20 years hence,
This is the memory, for which I still crave.
Certainly the oldest one,
That I’ll take to the grave.
Didn’t know that every upcoming year,
Will have me misunderstood.
But, with pride I say.
Year 2000, you were good.
©- Himanshu Gulati
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