Back Door Poem by kalyan mech

I heard babble of many bubble,
Blab of their rising and ceasing,
Some standby tattle, some on knees singing,
Some praise 'mystery antediluviun'; some 'its a daily routine'.

I saw forlic of a rollick Titlark,
Romping clouds belly pincing poking; as she sway
At heart, core rending aloofness from hungry young ones,
A kernal to find but season of spring was not her way.

I witnessed a silent breeze, unveil a friable rose,
Ignomity beside her little mistress; few riff of pink on tears.
'Don't steal her beauty', that's only little mistress could cry,
As shame haven't pilled up to fill her bosom; otherwise she would hardly bear.