Childhood
© S K Iyer
I was in the chair, thinking,
when she came
in, smiling,
an angel without wings,
and got into my bed.
Saw in her
smile,
The lure of innocent love;
her charming face
drew me toward
her.
Lied by her side,
she cuddled up
cozily against my chest.
Felt
her warm body,
softer than butter;
Kissed her eyes
and then her
cheeks;
felt the sweet smell
of the pure childhood -
the life's
magnificent chapter
that seeks refuge in oblivion
never to be read by
oneself.