A late Summer afternoon,
In an Enid Blyton garden,
Of tall trees, flagrant canna, poppy, lilies,
Secret flowery arbor,
And a fragrant petal laden breeze.
A colourful dreamy haze
Soft flutter, incandescent radiance
Flower or flitting form?
Eternal dance at Nature’s temple...
Your tiny form,
Flits much like the butterfly
Vain wanderings, squeals and appeals
To catch one as carefree…
I deign not to yield to that urge
Though I crave to dust my fingertips
With that gorgeous luminosity
Oh! The stardust close at hand…
A monstrous humanity
Lurks outside these precincts
Lashing tongue and gnashing teeth
Harsh words and harsher deeds…
Hey little one, ask not to go back
Let us stay, dwell and revel
In this deliberate distraction,
Let us hide here so we may heal!