Feeling the surroundings

 When did I stopped,

feeling the surroundings,

like walking barefoot on soil,

getting pricked from grass on lying.

Petting some cat or dogs,

or holding street bovines,

jumping over some water puddles,

and get drenched in rainshowers. 

When did it became cumbersome, 

being perceived as wastage of time,

any activities that seemed childish,

would be embarrassing enough to hide.

Why does it matters?

if I climb on a tree,

or pause for a moment 

bend down and smell flowers. 

To adore something cute,

admire things that are pretty,

without the worries and concerns,

of my image or impression.

Let me cuddle soft things,

brush fingers through young leaves,

stand outside with open arms,

and inhale the petrichor after a drizzle. 

Creating a persona as we grew,

might have lost appeal of few,

cautioning self with reasoning,

restraining impulses by conditioning.

So, I run my imagination,

to create different scenarios,

to experience these sensations,

inside my mind as private creations.