My Little Tot (Iambic Trimeter)
S
Sathya Narayana
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The Moon's mischief his smile,
a flowers oozing honey drip.
His toddles; joyous sways
of greenly meadow grass
and babbles sweet and sly
are tender whiffs of wind!
On paper soiled, effaced
of life's serrated dots;
a colorful jot, this tot!
Realised for what I raced
lifelong, unlacing knots
of operose past. He's true,
a wrinkle's straightened mirth...
a grandpa's newest birth!
Bu şiiri puanla
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