The Pretty Little Girl Poem by kaavyaa kriday

THE PRETTY LITTLE GIRL

its a memory i cherish
in tune with parish
it was a fine winter day
but still it felt out of way

as always attending the mass
i was leaving by the way full of grass
i felt an urge to turn
to the cemetry old and worn

there, there stood a pretty little girlie
in a pretty frock, having hair so curly
in front of her on the grave lay,
a red rose which was not so gay

even from far, i saw tears
running down her rosy cheeks
she had become so frayed
seeing which my heart craved

my onlt thought for so many days
was that little girl's face
i had seen her kneeling by the grave
closing her eyes n beginning to pray

after which she had slowly rised
her eyes so red holy Christ
then with a kind of modest grace
she had left the place with a sad face

hoping to see her, the next day,
i stood in the grassy way.
but i didnt see the preety little girl
she remains a mystery, still to unfurl