Busted from the string of necklace
The beautiful white jewels tumbled down.

Wheeling and rolling they vanished somewhere in the town
And gone far in the hands of a magical clown.

The clown gave an awful smile
And coloured them all in an artistic style.

As I ran to collect the marbles
He has already painted them
And clinched a deal to a rich man.
I followed him throughout at the cool winter night
In the month of Jan.

I stopped the rich man, he turned,
He was my father which made me stunned.
I hugged him tight and bursted into tears
As I met him after many years.

He gave me those coloured pearls which erstwhile was indeed mine
I counted them and yes they were finally altogether nine.

Those pearls now appeared more captivating from before
I deep down in my heart blessed the clown for shaping them moreover allure.