Itsy bitsy feet of mine
Were rosy to all
Teeny hands of mine
Were framed on the wall
They laughed and cried with joy.
I was the first daughter in the house
I was viewed either as a toy,
Or A goddess or a mouse.
Celebration was on the top.
All were invited and they gathered me
Music was played nonstop
And I was made a VIP
YOU ARE READING
Life & What if
Poesialife is a circle of the same events that are followed by everyone. From birth to death all goes through the same pattern. This is beautiful to go through or see. That pattern is described in my this series of poem. I hope you'll like it. 🤞
