THE GUEST Little legs knocked on my door called me with her little crimson eyes I hummed my tune and with her sweet melody she helped me to revise. Fluttering from head to my shoulders she symbolised the sky with her phrases. Losing deliberately in the riot of tunes kept me counting her nobility but her tantrums for not being touched reflected her motility. When she extended wings of her, my little guest of this short interval awakened me from my slumber. My guest had wings. #9/30 #napowrimo #theguestpoem #yqpoetry #poemtime #yqbaba
