In a nook of my vast house beautiful,
a doll laid silent, in dust and cobwebs glad.
A doll that clapped when I touched my hand,
rhythmically to music unheard and making one mull.
Time went by, making me busy with friends and goals high
ignorant I was of the toy’s incessant claps from land un-treaded,
calling out for me in glee and happiness in this world unheard,
there it was clapping it’s tiny hands without despondence or sigh.
I muscled thru life as a threat and yeild to waste not,
no pause from the toil on the conveyor belt so tragic .
There it lay clapping it’s hands for me to be glad and stoic
in this incessant life, where every second doesn’t goes naught.
I heard at last to the claps that echoed in empty rooms,
claps -serene, gentle , warm and unconditional, of tiny hands.
Alas! the toy had been sold for a dime amongst those random stores,
never can I listen to those clanky claps beckoning childhood dreams.
Wait! I hear a mild clap from another corner,
Is it my eternal jubilaint worshipper reborn?
or this cynical mind, held strand from past far better?