Apr 30, 2011

On A Dead Child

Man proposes, God in His time disposes,
And so I wandered upto where you lay,
A little rose among the little roses,
and no more dead than they.

It seemed your childish feet were tired of straying,
You did not greet me from your flower strewn bed,
Yet still I knew you were only playing--playing at being dead. 

I might have thought that you were really sleeping,
So quiet lay your eyelids to the sky,
So still your hair, but surely you were peeping,
And so I did not cry.

God knows, & in His proper time disposes,
And so I smiled & gently called your name,
Added my rose to your sweet heap of roses,
And left you to your game.

Suyasha Vyas 
Batch 2004 

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