Little Krishna Of Brindaban Poem by Medha Upreti

Light as feathers,
        on tip toe,
          muffled whispers,
            children of Brindaban,
              the youngest
                   is the leader.

       His soft gait,
          Little Krishna
             of Brindaban,
                 He wears
                    peacock feathers
                         on his hair.

        Mischiefs of
             Child Divine,
                kitchens of neighbours,
                    raided in daylight,
                        for pots of curd,
                            His favourite of all.

~Medha Upreti