Artless the child! Messes the shingle,
Its innocence shows its nature to mingle!
The chidish grin marks its babyhood,
But oh! He has already understood
Now that is five , a pure juvenile
Would grow into a stressed sure senile
Runs n funs in the flowing phase
Its jst that later there’ll be no such wayz
As he grows he is no more single
Going far away from nature’s tingle
Is it the books? Or the dodgy culprits?
Close to such junk wires n far from being fit
Loosen his dayz of child demanour
So engrossed, so lost , forgotten the wonderful life flavourz!!!