Yellow Beetle (Dedicated)

The tiny feet pattered across the hall,
while i watched them from the wall.
She ran behind the tiny girl,
the hair was the cognizant old swirl.

Tiffins were packed,
a father she lacked.
So my love acted as both, a little
and drove my daughter in the yellow beetle.

When she came back home
after a long time, while i roamed.
And stood face to face, and cursed me,
that I left her alone.

I could just look out, and wished i could touch her,
give her long tresses a stir;
But I was just a photograph,
with her and my daughter in a yellow beetle.


Published by: Jash

I write, taking into consideration the photographic memory of the various lives I've seen around me. What I write isn't only something time has shown me, in my life and others', but also a segment of lunatic imaginative ideas, fascinating ; yes, but also a sway from a daily ideal routine, for peace to those grey cells, which always try to accomplish the impossible, into a world where nothing is impossible...

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