Her laughter
Speaks more than her lips
Wondering how can this ever be...
She cannot speak like you and me
She speaks in the special language of God,
Greeting me, each time, as I walk through the lane,
She bids me to stop by and play some little game,
My watch has other plans for me though,
My feet refuses to participate,
She knows my mind quite well,
She nods a merry farewell,
Holding my hand,
With her tiny fingers,
She walks with me to the end of the lane,
Beyond this point,
Lies the busy road,
The traffic snarl,
The hustle and bustle,
As I get mingled amidst this lost crowd,
I look over my shoulder...
She is standing there still,
Waving me a brilliant farewell.
(This poem is dedicated to the lovely, frail, spirited, but nearly speechless, girl, I happen to meet every day.)
6 comments:
This is beautiful,
heartwarming and touching..
B M
a very sweet poem..
@ niraj thank you.
@ Being me- Yeh, every morning she greets me and does walk with me, till the end of the lane, she tries to tell me a lot many things, but fail to understand any of it. I love her eyes, she is not a pretty face though. But most of all, I love her brilliant smile and heart warming farewell.
what a beautiful poem...really touched my heart.
@ lazy pineapple-thank you dear...!
Excellent poem. The last two lines really take the cake. :)
Post a Comment