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!
Accidentally came across this Blog. You are an awesome poet Chandrika!
ReplyDeleteGood Work.
I guess its "embers" from first two stanzas. Am I right?...dumb?
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem. Brilliant.
wow
ReplyDeletelovely!
ReplyDelete