Monsoon windings.

As the children squabbled over the marbles
That squeaked the now broken sunlight.
Hiding behind the twinkle in the eye,
was what I called us.

Below a banyan, with its roots breathing a sigh.
where the wind kindled the tips, till it almost sneezed.
Was us. Another whimsical us.

Cluttered by children clambering
up and down in the wet sand
Leaving behind footprints like a flock of hen,
Was us.
The silent, resilient us.

But as the rain drops fell,
Birds onto their nests swelled
Where did you run away?
Leaving behind the banyan and its wet hair,
The dancing children and the monsoon fair,
Where did you run away?

Where?