The Little Woman

a poem by Shweta

Once,
so long ago,
she played with her dolls,
with her mama,
with her papa.
Oblivious to the outside world-
no pains,
no sorrows,
her world a joy,
her life a happiness.

But soon,
she became a girl-
her thoughts her playmates,
her feelings her companions.
Protected from the external world,
no worries,
no problems.
The tears soon forgotten,
the laughter on her lips eternal.

And before she knew,
she was a young lady-
so many friends,
so many companions.
Cocooned in her own self,
in a world of her own.
With her own joys,
her own sorrows.
Feeling the pains,
getting the reality of the world.

And then she met someone.
Someone-
who made her a woman,
a woman with tender feelings,
deep emotions.
Someone-
who shared her joys,
and her sorrows,
understood her,
loved her,
was her own.
Someone in whom she found
what she couldn’t find
in her dolls,
in her mama, her papa
from her playmates or
her companions,
and not even her friends.

Now she is not just a girl,
a lady, a woman,
she is a complete human being.