Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi


The Boat


The boat is so small, rifted from the house top,
A lonely child, sits there quiet and in dread,
Fear not of the life but of the water flooded,
Entered into the streets and the homes of pitiable,
The journey of her has begun with the thud,
Holding the plank of the boat looking up,
The sky is on mourn, the water just starts to flow,
Backward, observing what are on both sides,
Those given up the hope, floated on the water,
The trees, animals, human and their belongings,
The toy car, she wanted the most, floats along with her,
To the ocean, the bubbles of air gushing out,
She holds her little boat tight, until rescued,
The air is calm; the wind has gone back to rest,
A small puppy tries to swim against the current,
The eyes are as clear as the diamonds,
Keeping the head up, dancing with the front legs,
The lone girl sees the lone puppy, struggles,
Just extends the hand to pick up, as she has,
A little more space for the lost and obtained,
Both of them on the shack of float,
That has the two hearts, beating for life,
Unaware of the destination, they let,
Themselves to be drifted out nowhere else,
But to the palace of hope, where the monarchs,
Are crowned to the jubilations of the crowds,
The little boat may be seen and saved,
The little livings can continue living on the land,
saved by the tree, which turned into the wood and the boat.

Submitted: Monday, March 18, 2013
Edited: Tuesday, March 19, 2013

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