An innocent smile
blooms like the Rhododendron.
Richness is an attire
I traveled with the sunshine
to rest when the moon winked
with the gestures of sleep.
I am a child,
my toys are left
in the pit where sideliners fall.
I want to be the face of the world,
my eyes full of dream, seek laps of lullabies.
A shoulder of comfort,
is my suitable home.
My glass palace of imagination
is real for my idea of the civilization.
I plead for diplomacy
among the grown advocates of the society.
I swing in comfort,
I want to trust the leaders of vision.
My books are left behind,
the pages of my notebook are left blank.
Pour me the water from your pitcher.
I plead for the cost of my spilled blood.