Who Is She

A ten years old child, Wrote a poem on a girl, Described the curls, Of her silky hairs, And the roses she had, In the pinkish white cheeks, And the rhymes she sang, In her lovely voice! The poem became, A headache for the boy, Somehow it was read, At home by the elders, His brothers and sisters, And the parents too! Everyone asked him, Who is she? The boy never replied, And just smiled, On a birthday of the boy, She came at his home, And the love of the boy, Was now exposed! The naughty younger sister, Recited the poem. And when his sweet class mate, Listened to that poem, She asked the boy, Who is she? The boy lost the smile, With tearful eyes, She looked at the girl, When the eyes were met, She returned the tears, An amazing moment, When she appeared, A grownup eve. She came to him, And embraced her friend, With birthday greetings, And the shirt of the boy, Was wet with tears, Of innocent souls! The boy hid the shirt, Unwashed and intact, Still it is kept, At a secret place. Years then passed, An old man when retired, Being tired of his life, Saw again that shirt, And whispered to himself, Where is she? How is she? Having no reply, The old man exclaimed, Who is she!