Last week, N came home with a bored look, “I have an English poem recitation…AGAIN! Why do they do this! It’s so meaningless. I hate memorizing lines.” And then the torture started.
What does it even mean, Amma!
How boring, blah.
You call this a poem!
This is sad!
I don’t even understand it!
I was at my wit’s end after a long search through William Wordsworth, William Blake, Shel Silverstein and the likes. Finally, N looked into my eyes and said, “You are a writer, right? So you might as well write a poem for me!” My eyes grew wide and I exclaimed, “Yes, that is what we will do.”
N went running and brought a pen and a paper. “I have a few lines in my mind. Can we plzzzz use it?”
Neki aur poochh poochh? “Why not?” I smiled.
Soon the poem was ready.
On D-day, she came back from school and said, “Amma, my poem was the only one which was self composed. Every one took it from the internet! Poems are fun. I wish we get them more!”
Glad… “I am glad”, I muttered happily.
Take a peek 🙂
A DAY AT THE BEACH!
On a Sunday noon I went to the beach,
I saw the vast sea out of reach.
Up in the sky so blue and white,
I smiled when I saw a wonderful sight.
Fluffy and soft, like cotton they lay,
Rushing and pushing, they flew far away.
I told the waves, “Catch me if you can.”
Wiped my sweat, “Phew! I need a fan.”
I wore my hat and sat in a chair,
The wind blew my hat and my hair.
I giggled as the sand tickled my toe,
I had a lot of fun and wished for more.