How do I tell her?
How do I bring myself to tell her?
She’s just a little girl
A bud on a stem of the tree of life
She’s young, innocent
With no impure thoughts
If I tell her the truth
What will she understand?
What will she make of it all?
Death will seem an alien concept
An unfamiliar script
No, she will not take it well
Her mind will wander
Her mind will wonder
She will conjure ideas that may not be right
She may draw wrong conclusions
Yet she is adamant
She is incessant in her appeals
She wants to know her mother
In a way she is like her mother
Fiery, forceful and yet undeniably sweet
I distract her
I avoid the topic
But I wonder if she sees right through my diversions
I wonder; sometimes I wonder all night
How do I tell her?
How do I tell her?

He held her hand
As they made their way
Inside the magical place
Where everything was
A shade of red

The entrance gate was bright red
With a mammoth wall of scarlet bushes
Enclosing the secrets inside
The path was cherry-red and
The grass growing all around was red too
Albeit a darker shade

As they made their way in
Their skin transformed too
It turned as bright and sparkling
As a stone of ruby

Large, tall trees populated the place
And each had a dark red trunk
With crimson leaves and
Dainty red fruits hanging
From its ruddy branches

A swarm of red birds littered the sky
Against the backdrop of a radiant red sun
Hiding behind envious red clouds

“Look there’s a pool there,” she said
After they had gone a little
Deeper into the garden
“Isn’t it beautiful?”

Indeed, it was beautiful
For the pool had glorious carmine water
Settled placidly in its lap
And reflecting the scant sunlight
That fell upon its cheeks

He held her hand
Tightly as they
Slowly marched towards
The pool leaving
Their old, dull world behind