A Prayer... Poem by indira babbellapati
A Prayer...
Bad boy,
I tell the god
like a small child
who tells the stone
s/he is tripped against.
In no time i smile
like the little one on
spotting a colorful butterfly
or a puppy or a kitten
with wetness hanging
on the eye corners
and damp scars on the cheeks...
Friday, February 7, 2014
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4/26/2024 3:23:16 PM # 1.0.0.1119
We become children in presence of God. Naughty child can say anything without offence. Nicely expressed in the poem. Thank you.