by Hima Mouli, I B.A. English
I sat inside by the ornate glass window Gazing at those boys and girls outside Lying outstretched beneath the apple trees Shielded from the sun at the peak of his stride
Two worlds, two different worlds, exist here My world, their world, separated by the glass clear
Their faces were flushed from work and play They lay with their limbs spread askew And I sat by my window, proper and prim My face painted and powdered to a ‘perfect’ white hue
We were both idle, yet the difference was profound There they lay free, here I sat bound
Their lazy smiles on their sunburnt faces Spoke volumes of a well-earned peaceful content I suppressed my tears, it isn’t ladylike to cry Trying to ignore the stifling heaviness of discontent
In my mind’s eye, I saw myself under the trees A whistle on my lips, as careless as you please
In my heart, an unspoken wish made itself known Like the quiet yearning call of a caged bird There they sat unperturbed, not realising the blessing Of not having to watch every action, measure every word
I long for that; that capricious freedom That unrestrained idleness, their kind of boredom