Words spill out secrets
And the more I speak, the more I regret
Yet, my lips remain parted until I utter a new word
And so it goes on, this story of telling tales!❣
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Small, pink feet trace on the sand Seashells do they feel The rose-tinted sky and the pale sun Gazing at the little beauty.
She will grow up one day, larger than the seashells Discovering awareness, understanding darkness Then, will she look at herself as she does today? Thinking herself as the princess of the seas, Or the love-child of two swains, now separated.
She grows with the slum kids, nurtured by the grumpy old lady Who found her beside the rocks, a baby cradled by winds, And taught her to sell bangles That adored the hands of brides happy.
She feels happy, with a meal and shelter Her father living beyond the ocean, her mother the grumpy old lady She is rude, she sometimes beats her with a stick But she is happy with her beach castles and candies.
What a beauty childhood is! That clouded the judgement of a human little She found her heaven in the tiny moments of life With sunshine and the fathomless depths of sea.
When she will grow up to understand her existence How her blood is unknown to her, How, her life is all but a box of chocolates, Unknown, bitter or sweet, she knows not.
Childhood, her childhood, with pebbles, marbles and sand Miraculous discovery of marvellous seashells The blowing of conch shells, the fragrant wild flowers When her childhood goes, she will miss this innocent unawareness.
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Childhood is a time of innocence. A value we must shred as we grow older... Circumstances, which do this needful, might be different for different people, but it happens.
----------------------------------------------------------- (Winner of PoetryIn November childhood Contest )
