On a distant summer
a girl walked four miles
to sell fruits at the haat
and mowed by the May heat
fell asleep on a patch of concrete.
The noon dusts played around her
sleep little girl rest your feet
the winds will play you a song
refresh you with dreams so sweet
the walk back home won't be long.
The sun had slid the shadows grown
when opened her dream dazed eyes
there she was at the haat all alone
her fruits in the basket had dried.
She had dreamed a round dime
clutched in her palm
colored gold with her wish
she had slept thru the time
and when the winds calmed
held nothing to buy home a fish.
Time has flown those dusts far away
years have grown her wise
yet when the winds blow lonely in May
her tears she cannot disguise.
Culled from real life, I thought of writing it for an adult mind, but ended up doing it for the child in me, or maybe, there's really no dividing line.
(Today I complete four years on HP, thanks to all my poet friends for being with me on the journey)
