Pinkie Poem by Avik Datta Gupta

I was sitting on my garden chair,
When I saw her face so fair,
She seemed to symbolize a childhood mare,
As she played with her golden hair.

As her feet rustled on the grass
She looked like a little highland lass
I stood up and put down my glass
Wish I could capture her - oil on canvas!

She was wearing a pink ribbon
Her lips were so lively..so crimson
Her cheeks had the colour of vermillion
Like the hue of the setting Sun. .

She came upto me and asked my name
I replied and asked her the same
'My name is Pinkie', said the little Dame
Fondling with her ribbon in her own sweet game


It seems you are an artist by trade
The crimson lipped angel said
Could you please have my portrait made
A Portrait that would never fade

For me it was a dream come true,
I wanted to capture her from every view
Those crimson lips with a sunset hue
As often as I could, as she grew

The canvas was ready and so was she
With a mystic smile, she stood by me
I was amazed to see her facial glee
Painting this wouldn't be very easy.

It was over on the eighth day
The portrait of a girl so happy and gay
With a rosy face and her eyes so grey
It satisfied me in every way

She saw the painting and clapped her hands
As a gift she gave me her hair bands
She was a flower in my deserted sands
She was a fairy in my wonderland

That was the last time I saw her
Then she departed to a world so far
That I'd never see her ever in the future
I lost someone close and dear

I wish she had stayed..
For me to watch as she danced and played,
But in my heart forever she remained,
As a portrait, that would never fade