As a young girl I remember
playing with toys of timber
I had toys of Dad and Mom
named the Dad as Tom
he stood tall and straight
wore not a shirt so bright
dressed in colours somber
looked also very sober.
The mother looked so cherubic
was exuberant and very energetic
her attire was very fanciful
red and yellow checks wonderful
they were my playmates for long
I rushed to them with a song
impregnate with mirth and joy
I trotted to them rather coy
never thought them to be a toy
share with them my dilemma and plight
if I saw the real ones in sight
dashed away in a swift flight
my doll parents listened to me
shared my sorrow and glee
they still remain with me as a treasure
I return to them that being a regular feature
my own parents are dead and gone
my
foster ones would remain even after I am gone.
I
Meenas Poems 