Pocket Full of Love

So this girl had a tiny pocket,

Smaller than the smallest bucket.

But she made good use of it,

So she had no time to sit.                                  

In the pocket she went around collecting

A golden powder, always shimmering.

It shone brightly on her hands,

Each time she held the powdery sand.

She loved the glittery color,

She loved the subtle perfume,

She loved the powdery touch,

And sometimes the bitter sweet taste.

She loved the powder so much,

That she travelled till Deutsch,

Assembling the powder,

As her pocket grew crowded.

Always in a frenzy,

She went around collecting.

One fine morning on her way,

When she couldn’t find more,

To add to her exiting store,

She paused from her frenzy,

And felt her pocket weightless.

It couldn’t be.

She had found so much of the powder

And now it felt like it had all blown with the wind,

Or washed with the waves,

Or simply passed into nothingness!

With much anticipation and a little doubt,

She put her hand

Into the Pocket Full of Love.

Only to realize

That there had been a hole all this while,

In her pocket full of love.

Sadly, she cried and cried

And swore to never love love.

She blamed herself

And she blamed the world.

Melancholic and distressed,

She kept walking ahead.

Forgetting to look back,

At the lane behind her,

Shimmering with the powder

That had fallen out,

From her Pocket full of love!