I observe in silence,
I hear in magnitude,
I see in-depth,
That is what I can do.
A child begins her day,
Setting aside everything gay,
Pushing back all her play,
Switching on to the rigorous fray.
She gets ready in a hurry,
Breaks her fast in a flurry,
Casting her likes in a bury,
She walks up in a slurry.
Still sleep lingers in her eyes,
As she opens her reader to a size,
Pouring over the book in a guise,
She follows the teacher with a despise.
From school she comes home,
Falls asleep in her cosy bedroom,
The little girl finds no time to bloom,
Eventually she has to face the doom.
Meenas Poems 
One reply on “A Child Is A Child.”
Why is it that children have no time to be children…so much pressure to be successful adults…so sad.