The sky was so blue
As the wind blew,
A rainstorm rose
Uprooting the rose.
The maiden came so fair
With her ware and fare,
Along with a cowherd,
Not a sound was heard.
She ran after a hare,
Down was her long hair,
Her breakfast she ate
When the clock struck eight.
She let out a wail
And removed her veil,
As she hurt her sole,
Bleeding was her soul!
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Babita Kejriwal is a writer, poet and a blog writer. She writes on any topic which touches her heart. She is also a healer and counsellor.
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