Not A Story!

The needle sharp spikes can poke and puncture,
The subtle young skin, it entered quietly to adventure,
Below the blouse and on the stomach, crawling upward,
At The place of worship, where everyone was quiet and downward,
Hundreds of pins started to prick slowly and steadily,
Could not move and scream for help as It was the house of God,
Spitting the bitter fluid on its way, below the pinafore,
It made the victorious journey to the neck to smell and sneer,
When the warden dismissed and everyone was out,
She separated her hands that were clasped at the chest,
To retrieve the visitor from the back of the neck,
It was a green caterpillar with pins and spikes,
Everyone was shocked to see the trail mark,
From the stomach to the ten years old young neck's back,
She has learned the lesson of patience on that day,
And let soon to be a butterfly on the young leaves.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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