It’s
been so long a wait,
For
this breed of little beings
“Will
they ever come to birth, or
Was
it yet another metaphor
To
tame my teenage angst?”
I
wandered and pondered.
Sometimes
I used to think,
“What’s
keeping them for so long?”
Aren’t
we beautiful enough or,
Are
the poor little things flushed
And
washed down the gutter already
Wrapped
in our elastic rubber suits?
Today
morning I heard one,
Reaching
out for my affection
Crying
softly by the roadside,
Along
the windy path of life
Rejected.
Suffocated. Dumped.
Who will bear the beautiful ones?
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