Not About Me

On a low stool a pensive housewife sits
Out of this realm lost in her thoughts
On the swing a girl sweetly sings
Of life and love and ever after
Old or young need a little of all
Outside in the yard another hums her tune
Off and on she teases her brother who oils his bike
Once in a while his eyes dart here and there
Over the fence, towards the door
On the seventh darts he whistles loud ‘n long
One by one they bounce out of every corner
Orange, blue, yellow in diverse shirts
Onto the bike he jumps and pedals
Over and over; round and round
One after the other they repeat the cycle
Over and over amidst cloud of dust
On the swing the girl claps and hoots
On the low stool now stood a child of three
On her left her mother smiles in glee
Of the joy that childhood brings

*Every lines of this poem starts with the first letter of my name, but it’s not about me.

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