Mayna, playing in the courtyard
Another butterfly choosy in her
affections, her laughter glittering
like lights for the Mother Goddess.
I am sure, when she grows up
She will grow up to be an activist
Or may be even an artist
Who knows, with all the
dark shadows that shall soon
But that is all much later.
For now, the future shall remain
serrated on her thighs,
Her dear flesh twinkling like
newborn stars under my aching nails.