Quiet And Lost
When I see her,
Her curious eyes
Often toss up to the series of objects,
Probably, drawing the imaginative pictures of lines.
Then I deliberately track her sight,
Peep for the minimalist guile,
Until she is startled by
My shadow coming right behind.
The wondrous smile follows
As if we went past the formality of Buenos Dias!
This is the 50th poem under the poetry journal “Isn’t She A Cape Crusader!” which aims to add 100 poems under 100 days. I missed five days.
Read it and let me know in the comment how it was. You can read another seven (recent) poems on this blog page.
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