Who Meddles On And On With The Sight Of Little Natalia Shawn? Poem by Devanshi Khetarpal

The winding windows were binding on the wall,
The night looked black and the blokes looked blur.
Who's so mean to be keen on mischief.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

She sees no numbers or lusty lumbers,
She sees no codes or rusty roads,
She sees no rooms or doors of doom.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

The pink primroses were pinned on the streets,
The green foliage followed the flutter,
The scene was effusively effulgent and visible were the sweetmeats.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

She sees the insurmountable dawn,
She sees the drops of dew on tender greens,
She sees the plummeting fruits and leans.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

The entities kept far apart were vague,
The sight became akin to the plague of the prologue,
The optics seemed to have become a mountebank and rogue.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

She sees no woods, she's trapped in iridescent moods,
She sees no coots, she's in her boots,
She sees no kites, she's having a deliriously swinging sight.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

The eyes were open but their lids were shut,
The optics espied but all black,
The benighted scene ensued from the obscure ague.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?

She's sees nothing for long and long,
She doesn't open her eyes for hours and hours,
She sleeps for days and nights somnambulating across the floor.
Who meddles on and on with the sight of Little Natalia Shawn?