Flights of imagination take off each day.
There’s no proper height to be.
I can swing from one to the other any moment,
Without any age limit or a ticket or fee.
One goes to the country of chocolate-filled oceans,
Another to a land where birds are kings.
One to a world where cartoons live like people,
Yet another to where winged creatures spin dreams.
I once took a flight to the land of funny giants,
But mid-way got dropped in the sea.
I ended up stranded, paddling an island,
Egged on by a whiny little imp.
She fumed and she swore,
She got bored and she snored.
Why can’t we fly?
She kept yelling repeatedly.
Why not indeed, I wondered aloud.
We’d been paddling for days,
My arms sore, my head heavy with flies.
Why not turn the sea into the sky,
The island into a ship that could fly,
And connect all worlds with trout
That so often wriggled and leaped straight into our mouths!
From trout to trout,
We first paddled, then flew.
And when we reached the island,
We rested, met the giants, ate stew (not fish stew!).
Not a while longer did we stay,
Another flight of imagination was heading our way.
shweta das 