The Little Girl in Paris

The death of innocence at the hands of a menace

I saw the little one full of grace,

With a fairy pink attire;

Her face was blushing rosy red,

Her palms were pale sapphire.

On lushly ground she laid so calm -

Her eyes were watching sky;

And those who stood encircling her,

Were bidding her good-bye!

She will not move, she will not speak,

She will not again smile;

Her soul has gone to wander alone,

Had crossed unending mile.

An hour before she danced and dwelled,

And now she lay with dots;

Her dreams in Paris just broke down,

With beguiling few gun shots.

 

Copyright © 2015 Trinabrata Das. All Rights Reserved.