Three pairs of eyes follow me as I walk down the road lined with trees,
Three pairs of eyes, with innocence, follow me as I walk down the road lined with trees.
Each a copy of the other, of varying heights though.
The eldest pair of eyes walks with a smile on her face,
The second with a grim one,
The youngest has no walking to do as he is of the princely age of carriage!
My eyes follow them too,
As mother, daughters' and the little son in arms walk the road lined with trees.
Where do they go every morning? I wonder.
Such a picture they make.
The eldest in front, mother and son behind, and the straggling second,
Goaded by the elder to hurry up.
Neatly kept, they are always well dressed, little son with socks and scarf,
Daughters with skirt and top one day, a salwar on another, hair combed and braided.
Where do they go every day?
So tiny they are, like miniature soldiers, they follow in perfect discipline.
Marching one behind the other, or the other behind one, down the road lined with trees.
I look at them and give a smile, the eldest always has one to share,
The middle is too worried to look at me, as she has the catching up to do with mummy.
We move in two opposite directions, for our lives will not meet, but we follow each other with eyes of curious innocence
All the way down the road lined with trees.