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Ah, Her funny giggles tickle me Every time she looks at me. My little girl standing, holding a laugh Changing her tone like a bird's charming chirp. Oh, my little laughing flower Blossoming even in the gold autumn. Warming the walls in the days of cold Firing the snow, to make it warm. I don't know, what she finds so funny in this wrinkled face Maybe the way it shrinks or the way it expands Like a raisin kept in sun or in water Or maybe, her wrinkles which she thinks To own tomorrow.
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Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
Granny's Child
Ah, Her funny giggles tickle me Every time she looks at me. My little girl standing, holding a laugh Changing her tone like a bird's charming chirp. Oh, my little laughing flower Blossoming even in the gold autumn. Warming the walls in the days of cold Firing the snow, to make it warm. I don't know, what she finds so funny in this wrinkled face Maybe the way it shrinks or the way it expands Like a raisin kept in sun or in water Or maybe, her wrinkles which she thinks To own tomorrow.
PoetryLove
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16/F/India
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 8:37 AM UTC
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