Their laughter invisible ripples in the monotonous wind.
Their dangling feet feathers of imagination buoying in the air.
Their mind running wild like the flooded river.
They were harry potter floating on their broom,
They were pirates sailing their ship.
They were kids and their imaginations were their bliss.
The bicycle was old and wretched,
and it rested on the dented wall and sighed in the sun,
while the cars and bikes whizzed past like the horses on run,
but for their tiny hands and feet the giant cycle was the key to their wonderland,
it was the door to their unknown mystic land .
On the bicycle they were free to weave their stories,
like the spider spun it’s web.
They were kids and their imagination were their bliss.
~Mayuri Srivastava~
I wrote this poem for Sadje’s What do you see prompt . Click on the link to visit her blog.
My Diary 
What a beautiful poem Mayuri! A child’s imagination is their magic. Thanks a lot for joining in
Thank you Sadje.
You’re welcome