A little girl stood
beside her
Arms outstretched.
Demanding, commanding
Carry me.
She looked down
from the curtains
she was pinning.
Not now dear. Busy, you see?
The moment passed.
The little girl stepped back.
Forever. It was one too many times.
Not again, ever, would she ask.
And she. Waiting to finish,
to pick her up and cuddle.
Impatient, finding her, at last –
In the tree house,
busy with her family.
She. Arms outstretched
eyes pleading in apology.
Not now, Mama. Busy, you see??
Usha, 30 April, ‘07
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