Page 19 - Petals of Flower-Revised_30thJune,2017

CHILDHOOD DAYS

I try to count drops of rain
The number of coaches of pasing train;
I jump to catch the many coloured rainbow
Tread on feather- like flakes of fresh fallen snow
I dance with swaying sunflowers in the farm
I am safe in the warmth of my grandfather’s arm;
Oh! When I look back at good old days
I long for return of my childhood days

Machine

I like the flying machine
Lifted into the sky
By the wind under the wings
And I fly over the clouds, so high!
I remember it is time for schol
And I must wear uniform
I hear the washing machine calling mom
Its whistles announce clothes are dry!
So it is time for breakfast;
The cooker the kitchen machine
Sings and tweets
Breakfast is ready and I must hurry!

All about a Noodle

Bread butter jam or poridge
Are common favourites on breakfast table
The morning light grows brighter
With arrival of each item in that order;
But there is one more dish
About whose origin to know I wish
The tongue is puzzled where to begin
From limpid loops of the lovely delicacy;
But enough of this dilemma:
For it is my noodle that takes the cake!