PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I reminisce my childhood…

So blithe, near ye old big wood…

We were born beautiful,

Delicate, debonair, plentiful…

While our parents yarned olde tales,

We gamboled gaily with butterflies and bees that caused no bales…

Wind would caress and care…

And the sun would glisten and glare…

Rains would make us wet…

And the days passed sans a single fret…



A day came when they came…

They put us in a wooden frame…

And abducted us all away…

And we wailed a lot on our way…



Many of my friends were isolated,

And I was so desolated…

I was then brought with others, of bizarre kinds,

And we were trussed with tight binds.

Then we were moved to another big place,

Which was called ‘Des fleurs de Lovelace’…

I found my other friends there,

They were trussed just like me with those tight binds…

I smiled at them and drooped, lamenting my lair.



Then that lovely lady came and me she finds…

She took us to her abode,

And placed us near a huge cupboard,

She sprinkled water and out she went,

And hasn’t returned till today in this tent…

And I am dying of thirst,

And I am wilting to my worst…