Many moons ago in a desert landscape,
a little girl, up from Earth, at me did gape.
She had long straight black hair (with one curl) .
I'd watch her ply** the bricks and sometimes twirl.
She smiled at me and my craters would fill....
with warmth from her smiles. That was until...
she grew up as human children are apt to do,
and off to the United States she quickly flew
But, i still see her at times walking on a path,
admiring the flowers and the setting sun.
Yes I'm sometimes watching though the sun hath....
not yet set! She looks like she's still having fun.
(October 10,2015)
No matter where I live the child in me brings the most fun for me. Thanks Bri for such playful response. Loved your poem.
** PLY intransitive verb [DEFINITION #2] 1 : to apply oneself steadily 2 : to go or travel regularly bri :)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This sounds so cute! But this 'Savita child' sometimes grows into a hard core philosopher or even a mystic! I am sure she enjoyed this poem!