The Lost Child Poem by Alok Singhal

What spring he had in his steps
Joyfully moving like a butterfly kissing flowers
The smile could penetrate the coldest of heart
Singing so gleefully like in a trance
Such rhythm like a ballroom dance
Always ready in his quest
Always so anxiously asking innocent questions
But all that seems nothing more than a story of the past
There is no spring in his steps
Sadly he moves at a snail’s pace
The smile is miles away
Songs replaced by a wail
The rhythm gone
A vague disinterested look in the eye
No more of innocence
The child is lost in the oblivion
About time for us to ponder the cause…