Vani Tiwari (XII A)

The first cry of a living doll,
The little fingers held the bigger,
Gleaming innocent eyes here & there they roll,
Indescribable delight for the mother she triggers,
The newborn fairy of love, she smiles besides.

With the first elderly playmate, the toddler giggles,
Both in fascination in love with their togetherness,
Free of worldly worries, jumping in excitement,
The little fairy of love, she gazes from the bench beneath.

With her first so beloved,
Who meant for her the entire world,
Her only property more precious than her life,
For whom she left her earlier world aside,
The young fairly of love, she flew out the house.

With her hair white as snow,
Amidst the memories of her beloved,
Knitting sweaters and narrating folks,
To some angels in twilight,
the old winged fairy of love looked for something far away.

Now with the fairy she waits,
Counting the last days of her life,
The fairy’s about to die as the days passed,
Fairy’s rivals – intolerance, inhumanity, outpaced her.
Hence these witches prevail.


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