a bird made a small nest

in the shade of staircase,

with easy access to

the outside domains,

.

I saw it again and again,

as I traversed through

the straight stairs,

rare chance that I missed,

.

my eyes never blinked those

sometimes I stood

in a sort of trance,

my hands limp by my side,

.

those straws and pebbles

would give rise to goose pimples,

as I pondered over this

clever crude creation,

.

it was my secret and still is,

to believe that it hoarded jewels,

diamonds and rubies,

ripe with a sheen of knowledge,

.

it was a basket for me,

full of wonders of many kinds,

I was a kid then but much

hasn’t changed today,

.

i have no memory of

when it was that those feathers

and twigs were swept away,

reduced to nothingness,

.

and now when I gaze at

that dotted starry sky,

I see a new constellation,

shape of that long gone nest,

.

even though I can’t recollect

much of what that time was like,

I just wonder at my wonders,

and wander as I close my eyes

.

* For Sunday Whirl Wordle 129. Also submitting the link for Poetry Pantry # 170. Also, this has come out to be the 701st post here.

Photo source