My grandma's home,
long ago I recollect,
there hung a few photographs.
Framed they were,
embellished in stature,
seldom failed to arouse the curious sprite in me.
Every now and again,
me the naughty used to get onto the table beneath
lift the frames from their rusted iron clamps.
Loved the creaking sound, sure did I.
But sound was never the sole consequence.
There always was this brown scorpion,
lifting her tail up.
Seemed me was the only entity in world
disturbing his slumber.
"Keep away, keep away!!!"
Used to shout my grandma.
"A bite of she causes pain 'n woe,
keep away dear."
And the hurricane of fantasy in me,
would be transformed...into a gentle zephyr.
Now I stand tall,
now I realize,
that past is beautiful,
when let alone,
when viewed afar.
