by Balu George
I am at the table trying to write.
The little girl enters the room,
And accuses me of stealing her pen.
Claims she will call the cops!
I smile.
Then reply that I will ring up the Chief Minister,
And tell him she is a nuisance.
She pauses and considers the threat,
Then raises the stakes.
Says she will inform the Prime Minister that I am a fat thief.
Not looking up from the table,
I retort that I will ring up the President of India.
Unfazed, hands on her hips (She always does that),
Says she is not afraid of the President of India,
Because she will report me to the President of the USA.
Top that!
Ha Ha!
I roll my final dice,
Pretty certain this will put an end to the matter.
I lean forward and with a grin mouth “Papa”.
Ha Ha!
Her face reddens and she bursts into tears.
Pleads with me not to call up her father.
I tell her I am kidding and,
Am rewarded with some punches and kicks.
It is evening and I am still at it, writing that is.
The little girl is sprawled on the floor drawing horses.
Her mother comes into the room,
And enquires what she is up to…
Not looking up, she says,
“The sky is blue, the grass is green and the horses are dark.”
That is what she is up to!
I realise I may have a poem.
This is a good poem.