When I Was A Little Girl

By Ishita Singhal

I used to be full of colors,

not caring whether it is complimenting.

Experimenting with every shade and tone,

Not realizing if it has a salient role.

I used to be full of expressions,

the mediums were not really fixed.

Reading, writing, drawing, and singing,

not concerning anybody’s vex.

I used to be full of drama,

every sort and every trauma was a try.

Pursuing mama to give me full attention,

not understanding what she likes.

I used to be full of life,

I used to be full of might,

I used to be full of nice time,

Sometimes I miss my child-like life.

By Ishita Singhal