Friday, August 8, 2008

Crack this one

They come through chimneys
They aren't owls
They quack and pick
They aren't fowls

They bend big men
They melt stern ladies
They can be very hostile
and still put you at ease

They are pink and red
They don't grow on trees
There is no stopping them
They'll do as they please

You wonder at one
Then again at the next
I am talking about babies
If you still haven't guessed!

4 comments:

  1. Accidentally came across this Blog. You are an awesome poet Chandrika!

    Good Work.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I guess its "embers" from first two stanzas. Am I right?...dumb?

    Wonderful poem. Brilliant.

    ReplyDelete