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My Dear Meenu


If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.


I  wish to see  my little Meenu,

To hear her cry

To feel her silky  charm,

To diffuse in her innocence,

I sit crossed,

When is it going to be?

 

I desire to hold her close ,

To look into her lovely eyes,

To caress her smooth skin,

To lift her up and down,

I relax wondering,

When is it going to be

 

 I yearn to kiss her cheeks,

To run my hand through her hair,

To put her to sleep in my lap,

To sing a  soft lullaby.

I languish slightly,

When is it going  to be?

 

I long to take her around,

To hold her  small  hand,

To  teach her the ways of life,

To talk to her about nature,

I recline lethargically,

When is it going to be?

 

 

I like to  note her growth.

To watch her roll ,

To  espy her crawl,

To perceive her walk,

I  fall back,

When is it going to be?

 

To

By meenas17

A lover of classical Carnatic music.
An avid reader, passionate writer, into stocks and investments for livelihood

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