palattes of paint, mirth and brace ..


she is all bored and dull,

lacking her usual josh,

perhaps her early days at school

is making her feel uncomfortable,

with the air of unease surrounding her

all the while inside this new place of hers,

not able to fit in with the folks around,

drooping down sluggishly inactive,

keeping calm and mum feeling so gloomy,


seems a bit queer cute little girlie,

keeping herself quite aloof from the surrounding,

her inchoate mind is not able to read

the scenario’s entailed discipline,

wherein she seems to move herself out from the bunch,

lacking that thing inside her

to accept the scene around,

to accept her kinder folks around

sans that gel that every other kid has,

she is all slumber and bit sloppy

hardly with any vague idea

why she isn’t feeling the same way

as she would do at home,

while her slothful  and unparticipative mood

with her class makes her seem floppy and low,

her lazy legs and passive mind is

apparently gesturing her teacher

to care more for the kid,

to look after her in uncommon attention,

worrying her keeping her in a spot of bother.

and all the while the little girlie is

missing her home and thinking about

how happy and merry she would get around

unlike here at this dull and gloomy place

of hers turning her down in dismay.


she is all low, dull and seriously homesick

missing out on her mom,

missing out her care and warmth,

lacking her kissing embrace,

her love and her play,

her beautiful face,

her feel and her touch,

her affectionate words and her affable mirth,

the gay and hay, the joy and merry around,

her brother’s play time,

the girlie’s jollity out of the colors and

the toons in her tv while watching it alongside her mom,

missing out on her toys and blocks, her rings and dolls,

that she would love to play with,


the coloring pads and pens of such joy and delight

lighting her up, as she eagerly paints and scribbles

the exciting pages of merry,

with every stroke of the paint,

while in every streak of the scribble,

as she completes a sheet’s colors,

she would be excited and glowing

in all her haven’s love,

in all her sweet home’s harmony,

the warmth and care behind,

the giggles and gay playing all around in sway,

the love and laughter enjoying around in glitter,

before the lovely angel dozes off

to sleep in comfort and care,

just when her mom puts down

her fairy tale read in kiss and flair.


She is dull and gloomy, lacking in lustre,

missing her home badly

standing before this window

leaning over it calm and quiet,

mum and in milder fright,

she looks out the window glass,

coy and timid she gazes out

through its transparent gloss,

the lush greens of the outside lawn

attracts her as she keeps her eyes

so fixed over its color,

its shades of the green and

the spread of playful joy,

reminding her of home’s mirth and brace,

reminding her of the week before’s

affable times of chromatic painting,

wherein she delightedly dipped her hands

in palattes of paints,

the affluent liquids of flourishing dreams,

pressing it hard over the sheet of joy and white,

as her mom helped her pressing

those lovable cute impressions

of this little angel’s tiny soft hands,

those glittering imprints in flying colors,

tracing the shades of love and

the hues of trust and contours of glitz,

painting the impressioned colors

of a prolific rainbow,

the colors of harmony and bless.


She continues her gaze curiously

over the lawn and the people passing by,

and the parked cars, its colors and gloss,

leaning on that beautiful window wall,

attracted may be by its gleam and glide,

pulled by its sheen and reflection perhaps,

liking its feel of touch while sliding her fingers

over its smoothened surface’s clarity of light,

unlike her rudimentary layer of observing knack,

thinking flow, conceiving ideas and cognitive learning,

as different from her little ignorant mind’s

gloomy and hazy moods of insecure grey hues.

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