Little things
Are little masters,
Little gentlemen.
Their little world
Is a lid,
a pen pocket ,
a saucer,
But they treasure
Each moment
Like children
To their balloons,
*******, bursting.
No cavil on lips,
No lour on faces,
Only decorous
In every weather.
Vases in my home
Are 10+2 passed out
From a public school.
I'm glad
They're well groomed,
Well disciplined.
In the sunshine,
And when it rains,
They wait for our nod
To make a choice.
Before guests
They're demure.
Since their arrival
In my villa,
I've been their fan
For their greatness
In their little space
That's what we need
In our hustle and bustle.