a busy dusk,
the shore hummed lullaby.
waves, cool and breezy, ebbed and flowed,
smooth froth touched the shore, happy and calm.

vendors lined the sandy shore,
candy carts flickered like waking stars.
ice creams– vanilla, chocolate, strawberry–melting,
cut mangoes, pineapples sprinkled with chili.
tangy, bright, tempting the eager tongue,
peanuts crackled in paper cones.

children barefoot on cooling sand,
running with joy pure as wind,
wide smiles mirrored the ebbing tide.
tiny fingers moulded castles of wonder,
each grain praying for gentler days.
kites above dared the endless sky,
lifting silent dreams beyond the clouds.

in the northwest stood a cart,
green tinged with fading blue paint.
the owner, a man of sixty,
with lines marking every summer’s passing.
beard white as jasmine blooms,
and eyes sharp like the spices.
moved with quiet dignity,
his white shirt perfectly pressed clean,
long dhoti immaculate in the night.
new bata slippers whispered pride beneath silence,
a golden yellow watch on his right wrist,
shining like the sun’s final rays,

vadas crackled in hot oil,
idlis soft as morning’s gentle clouds,
red and white chutneys shimmering like distant tiny stars,
inviting flavors, ready to tease the tongue,
all spread out on banana leaves green,

the crowd– patient, respectful, waited still,
drawn as tides to the moon’s subtle pull,
where humble coins unveiled rich delight,
a harmony of flavour and care,
each taste a whisper of home’s embrace.

beside him stood his silent wife,
as steady and sure as the shorelines.
their children, once close, working hand in hand,
had flown to cities, chasing dreams,
distant calls pulling them far,
away from home.

as the night spread its shawl wide,
two small shadows emerged, walking softly,
a girl with braids like the dark night,
her black skirt stitched, thread by thread,
her scarlet blouse torn, yet fierce, blazing bright.
a boy with eyes calm, yet glowing,
khaki trousers brushing his bare ankles,
his white shirt too large, but standing tall, unbent
their faces glowed with innocence still,
bright as evening’s first star.

his heart lightened and eyes brightened at their sight,
for every night, without fail,
he set aside the evening’s last meal,
a simple offering of love and care.
a promise unspoken, yet always kept,
given by hands that remembered love.

…

Beena E. S. is an Assistant Professor in the Department of English at Nesamony Memorial Christian College, Marthandam. She is the author of the novel Thorns of Love. Her poems have been featured in several well-known literary platforms, including Indian Periodicals, RIC Journal, Pashyantee, Delhi Slam Poetry, miniMag, Rhetorica Quarterly, and the Wingword Long List 2023. One of her poems was published in the December 2023 issue of Beetle Magazine.

Her poem Silent Tales was selected among the top 500 entries in the Wingword Poetry Competition. Another poem was published in the anthology The Hour of the Sun, and her poem In Silence was selected for inclusion in the Indian Yearbook of Poetry 2024.

You can find her on Instagram: @ e.s.beena