A Vase at the Pottery
The potter's daughter; like her father's craftsmanship
very beautiful to her *pinafore dress and the pigtails.
He sniffs when I ring the bicycle bell
during my routine delivery of their daily bread.
He knows my boss well; the pot bellied baker
and they are good drinking partners.
Baker's son goes to a high school
and very smarter than me.
Oh! I am an orphan who sleeps on a sooty mat
near the oven.
But she likes me very much
and I gave her a birthday present a stealing bun.
Postscript
*Because of her pinafore dress and the pigtails
she was attracted to me (on her school days)
and still struggle in life.
Dedication to the wild flowers whatever blossom & deteriorate
mysteriously in the wilderness.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
