Hope

{Rakshitha Reddy}

A little sprig shimmered in a bough
it lasted there? No
Pudgy thunder-storm gave a blow
it swung in the air and got low

She began to water the bole, pampered again
It even got drenched by rain
Next bud popped up in the line
She feather-bedded it, but in vain

She flinched, she despaired
nevertheless, continued to wet the mud
she ceased to foretell, she stopped,
But only fulfilled to wet the mud

Forenoon, a tiny sprout allured the wood
Cheered up, her bliss found no hold
She dished out what she could
And bore out that yearning is not too hard