My grandpa’s stories

Night after night

A rainbow bridge 

magically appeared 

and took me to a wonderland 

of stories where 

an upright woodcutter

won it all;

axes of all metals

much to the envy 

of his avaricious 

neighbour who gets 

suitably chastised

losing even his iron one.

There were birds

that sang of Krishna

who redeemed Sudama

from poverty,

surprising him as 

His grace turned his 

humble hut into 

an opulent palace. 

There were trees that

bore sweet stories of 

simple Alibaba 

who opens 

the cave portal with 

an arcane “open seasame” 

but takes only enough 

to sustain his needs. 

Lost in these 

I didn’t realise when 

this enchanted realm 

gave way to that 

of dreams, 

settled cozily in 

the warmth of my

Baba’s arms 

as he sat in his

wooden rocking chair.