Little Lark:

Little flower; why so shy?

Snowflakes; did moon cry?

I lost the rainbow on the trenches

With Its colors sitting on tiny benches

Oh mother! When can I fly?

Mother Lark:

Little flower will learn one day

How to hold head in the wind’s way

Snowflakes are angels’ dice

Rolling over; once, twice and thrice

Where the rainbow comes from

Neither does Lyla know, nor do I!

The day you learn to skim the sky

Little one! Then off you fly

The dusk of today will call us conspirator

The dawn of tomorrow will label us traitor

All would talk, oblivious to deception of time

That forms the seed of their own duality

Providence will identify, it will validate

Since it’s all about the game of singularity