The world changes as the needles hit
each digits in my watch.
My heart too keeps pace with it
n from it numerous dreams hatch.
which has become my soulmate.
At an age of seven,
being a teacher was the topic of my talks.
Cuz' then my hands could grip a pen
and even powder one or two chalks,
without any fear of being seen.
Then came the 'idiot box'-
who whispered about sports stars.
Though I fell in its coax,
I straightened up after hours,
without getting hammered to the floor.
Slowly that ebbed away at Thirteen
n the idea of a writer popped.
Was it bacause of my keen
love for Harry Potter? ? ?
Do I seem insane? ? ?
Some times back Debison's Aseline
urged me to be like her.
Still in that thought of lane,
my mind is in a whirl.
It could have given me fame.
As this is jotted down,
I dream of the day when
an author, a gal who own
a cuckoo voice, king of pen,
cladded in a jersey will be one.
But God opened up the lid
of those cute shells where
those two letters hid
n I long for the days with a Dr.
succeeding my name....
NEETHA SASIDHARAN
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-memory-speaks/
