My Childhood Mountain

Every time I pass by it on the train

my childhood mountain remains unchanged.

I had conquered nimble footed those hills

prancing along merry paths made by rills.

Now weak-kneed, I can barely descend

though its sight makes my soul ascend.

Its holds in its womb a fecund valley

countless creatures, lush green paddy

pepper scrambling up towering trees

jackfruit and fruit trees growing with ease.

With equal greedy ease it’s plundered

Yet all is gracefully, generously rendered.

My childhood mountain gently mocks

my aging haggard body laid waste

by greedy tastes and corporate haste.

Every time up and down my hill I climb

it slows my pace, makes me sublime

and glues me to solid ground.