The world changes as the needles hit <br />each digits in my watch. <br />My heart too keeps pace with it <br />n from it numerous dreams hatch. <br />which has become my soulmate. <br /> <br />At an age of seven, <br />being a teacher was the topic of my talks. <br />Cuz' then my hands could grip a pen <br />and even powder one or two chalks, <br />without any fear of being seen. <br /> <br />Then came the 'idiot box'- <br />who whispered about sports stars. <br />Though I fell in its coax, <br />I straightened up after hours, <br />without getting hammered to the floor. <br /> <br />Slowly that ebbed away at Thirteen <br />n the idea of a writer popped. <br />Was it bacause of my keen <br />love for Harry Potter? ? ? <br />Do I seem insane? ? ? <br /> <br />Some times back Debison's Aseline <br />urged me to be like her. <br />Still in that thought of lane, <br />my mind is in a whirl. <br />It could have given me fame. <br /> <br />As this is jotted down, <br />I dream of the day when <br />an author, a gal who own <br />a cuckoo voice, king of pen, <br />cladded in a jersey will be one. <br /> <br />But God opened up the lid <br />of those cute shells where <br />those two letters hid <br />n I long for the days with a Dr. <br />succeeding my name....<br /><br />NEETHA SASIDHARAN<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-memory-speaks/
