He Gave Her a Book

Just one copy left. I'd soon picked, 'My village', A renowned book of charming verses for the young; Much loved for illustrations and lucid language, And Rhythm such - every line could be easily sung... Though I should be the owner of, 'My village', When Lucy, my elder, just established her right; Dad gave her the book and as though great privilege, Gave me chocolates. I meekly forgot our fight... When father went to towns, cities on his business, My mother, our little home, lovingly managed; Lucy established her rights, but, now with calmness, Yet, often to tease me, new rhymes she recited. It's then when a little tall and fat we'd now grown, And had more thoughts to think than mere, 'My Village'; The innocence of our childhood like dew-drops gone, Life got monotonous like a normal voyage... ---- That day Lucy recited rhymes in a full chain, Like, longing to tell us all her philosophy; And collapsed. They had found, 'hemorrhage in her brain'. Lucy, soon, undertook her Eternal Journey. ---- Rituals, done; pains, undone; seated on our yard, Father brought out, Lucy's Sachet - just small baggage; With her tiny vanities - paint, brush, and note-pad... Wrapped well in a satin cloth was, 'My village'. On its first recto page, her own scribbling written: 'Brother! Not of malice! I did it for fun! Love you!' I did hide, yet my tears flew like a dam broken, Lucy, 'My village’, each moment, I'm missing you... 14th May 2021 He Gave Her A Book Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose