By Fiza Siddiqui
Me, memorializing in my heaven
Of God’s favourite, just Fifty-Seven,
Whom he took on a heist holiday,
discoluring our palace from Gold to Grey.
A girl of 7, brimmed with insoluble questions
Likewise, Me
Summing up all longing whines,
Penned a Letter To God,
Seeking a reply about the Holiday-Fraud.
Opening the pages of my imagination
Receiver’s address as place visited by His Bests,
Continued, Dear God,
Why you stole my Dear,
Leaving mere memories near.
Why you pick & choose first the bests,
Try following the tradition
having Cakes& Candles in the end of the Food Nest.
Not longing for career, castle or car,
Just the stolen sandstone,
Now turned into a Silver Star.
For once enable Walkie-Talkie
transmitting my immortal messages, greedy &gawky.
Aut (or),
Remove the floppy of his data & input ,
That, He & I collected throughout Lilliput.
But , I being a Selfish Soul,
can’t ask him to repeat a Milk & Bread Bowl.
Thy Thee,
Keep him in the paradise,
Relishing in the world of suffice.
Ending my Letter To God,
Posting it in my thought,
Searching the Postbox, everyday
Answered yet Unanswered,
Hoping for reply eternal Mortal Mays
By Fiza Siddiqui
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