PrincyJohn
Slowly peeping out from below the sheets, she tumbled down from the bed. And there she found the glowing blue-bird, at the foot of the bed... his name was Glo-bo. He looked at her with frightened beady eyes.
"Where is your mother", the little girl asked. Glo-bo stepped back and balled himself up in the farthest corner he could find. "Oh, don't be scared", said the little girl, "I lost my mumma too...but the matron here is a kind old lady".
Glo-bo tilted his head side-ways, he looked as if he was weighing her words. He slowly hopped into the little girls hands. "I am Glo-bo" he chirped. The child's eyes filled with excitement, because her crumbling dreams were finally coming true.
I wanted him to be the answer to my prayers...
Not knowing that I was making the wrong prayer.
Keep me crazy, I prayed...
Crazy enough to miss him every minute of everyday.
Keep me crazy, I prayed...
Crazy enough to love him through every hate.
He is the answer now...
I miss him every minute of everyday.
He is the answer now...
I love him through every hate.
He is the answer to my prayers...
Because I made the wrong prayer.
I miss him every minute of everyday
And I love him through every hate
'Cause he was never mine, and always late.
Yet. He is the answer to my prayers...
"Weavers weaving at the fall of a night
Why do you weave a garment so bright?"
Two lines form the poem 'Weavers' written by Sarojini Naidu... I studied this poem as kid in school. I still remember my teacher Sr. Jennifer teaching us this poem with such vigor and delight that the memory is forever weaved in me.