The smallest, merriest things are they
Looking at you, I suppose
Your charm be equal to what words of play
A poem or a goofy prose!
That little squirrel pecking her tail
Slumbers as i look and laugh
I wonder how you changed my pale
When compared to my books you’re half!
I glare at the moon and its mangata
I’m assured like begets like
As it shaky curves upon the water
Draw a curve on my face as a smile!
The swirling wasps and swinging bee
Present a choir that I see
While my nearest neighbour, the ‘mosquito’
Won’t stop buzzing the chords to me!
The giggling tree consoles me
Happiness is but such small
Its ladder grows towards peace
Flourishing at the cusp of pall.
And even though nothing makes sense
Life and its troublesome caricature
But yet it will someday when you know
Only in bedlam is Nature…!!