She took it out delicately
From her tiny frock pocket
Kept gazing on the two yellow daffodils
Drawn on the handkerchief

It was the same handkerchief, That she had bought
A few days back from the stall
She always kept it close to her
For it, she had to, drop her piggy bank after all

Closing her left eye
She looked at the sky through the handkerchief
Playfully, she teased the yellow sun, to take it from her
Pretending to be fast asleep

She had no intention
To offend the sun
Still the sun, with brush of anger
painted its face in red
The little one sensed danger
As the sun’s wrath began to spread

Soon, riding on the horse, and wearing a veil
Came the wind and plundered the town
The evil wind snatched her handkerchief
And took it high into the sky, making her frown

Helplessly she ran behind
Calling the wind, You handkerchief thief
Asking for help, from one an all
But people pretended, not to hear her grief

Having lost all her breath, and all her energy
She kept standing afar, Holding her knees
Her face was all rusty, hair all messy
and body completely soily

Another girl, in her place, would have by now cried
But not she, She was proud that she tried
And She had a belief, once the sun will go to sleep
The moon shall secretly return her handkerchief

But Dusk came and there were no signs of the handkerchief
The icy winds weren’t even willing to shake the mimosa leaf

Soon it was midnight, the town was painted in black light
There was no one’s presence, to her left or to her right

Only she could be seen
And her fastened breath could be heard
Lying in such a manner, she was in a pool of mud
With Rock as her pillow and grass her bed
That Glow worms, mistook it, for her death bed

The fate of the handkerchief kept her whole night bothering
With each passing breath, her hopes started shattering
Without even blinking her eyelids, she just kept looking above
Until the running nose of hers somehow
Forced her, to put her hands, back again,
Into the same tiny frock pocket

Now, this was enough, for her to break down
And cried and cried she till the rise of dawn
Mourning the loss of her beloved Handkerchief
Sprinkling drops of sorrow
On her, two daffodils like cheeks

So that the reader doesn’t get teary eyed
The pen while writing this deliberately lied
For it was not the handkerchief that she lost
It was her girlhood
It was her childhood


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