Imagination has its charm,
As it is the seed of many forms,
Poesy is its spontaneous flow,
Drama is its lively show,
Prose is the easiest in the row,
The mind in itself draws,
A fine stroke of clause,
Relating to an
unseeming thought,
Yet attached to a fancy bought
That of a Space police.
The coinage sounds startling,
But makes a study interesting ,
Framed by a six-year-old,
Whose enumeration is like gold,
Keeping the listener in fold.
Week in and week out,
He talks about,
The patrolling in space,
Which leads to a race,
Of catching the robbers.
It sets me to wonder,
It makes me ponder,
Is not the space away from,
Greed, cheat and lust?
Nay ,not at all , grandma ,
Cries my” Little Nanda.”
Certainly, creativity has the rarest glow.
Meenas Poems 