My Poems

COPY THE DUMB MAN

He came down every other Sunday,
I ran hastily towards the door…
Beguiling me through his nuances,
I loved him to the bits and core!

He tickled me on my belly,
My laughter took a skyline toss…
I loved him more when he sang me a lullaby,
And when he brought my favorite candy floss!

My folks were her mother’s favorite…
My dad and he drank together,
Dining and making merry twice a week…
Were the things that made us happier!

I slept in his arms ever so often
He often lifted me on his shoulder!
He led me to my first day at school
As I turned a little older!

I grew from one to two to three…
His homecoming never ceased,
But there is a story when I was six,
A story that had me freezed!

We often played a game
Called ‘copy the dumb man’!
It required me to keep quiet…
And enact him exactly as he began!

It was a game that we only played,
When no one was home…
As my mom kept me in his custody,
To run an errand and leave me alone!

Copying his gestures dot to dot…
I moved my hands likewise,
I then placed it on his chest…
As he placed his on mine!

He then fondled me on my thighs,
I fell prey to his sickening drool…
As he went a little under my skirt and said,
Sssshhhh…. “Don’t break the rule!”

I could no more decipher his love…
My pain barred me to speak a word,
I collapsed with my head on his knee…
As he collected me through my girth!

I peeked us into the mirror…
Disrobing me as was he!
Gaining my senses an hour later,
There was no one around who could see!

What he did with me un-grown breasts?
I really couldn’t fathom my plight!!
I was six and I really tried to understand
I tried, tried and tried so hard that night!

Making merry didn’t see a pause after that,
His gawking eyes were now a mundane…
He often asked my mum if I was doing well,
As I hid behind the window curtain!

Here was this man I was once so fond of…
A man who befriended my dad…
A man who brought me chocolates…
Also, a man who patted my back!

Haunted me inside out,
Faint memories of his indecent touch!
His gripping hands on my bosoms,
Sometimes on the bed, sometimes on the couch!

Who should I’ve told this story to?
What words should I’ve used?
I knew nothing of this melancholy!
My brutes laughed at me in truce!

Time is the biggest healer, they say!
They say…you must fight your demons!
I ask if there was a manual for a six-year-old,
To be juxtaposed in a nascent brain…and two hands full of crayons!

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