MAYA

The toddler first enjoyed the lunar beauty,
Then demanded he should have it to play,
The firmament's heart smiled innocently,
And enticed the toddler, excited his pranks,
Parents, uneasy, tried methods to convince
"Moon is a satellite!" somebody declared, no use!
Unceasing obduracy persisted in loud cries,
Till the septuagenerian granny showed her face,
A mirror was brought, the images of moon, stars, clouds,
Made the baby quiet.  He looked, prated, laughed.

Years passed. The toddler grew up into an astronaut
A hummer, he flew to thelap of the moon,

Every hue in the firmament enjoyable.
He proclaimed scientific fantansy, natural sorority,
Of the cyber world.  He boasted the great feat.

Now ninety, our granny's deaf ears heard the tale,
Through the ear-phone.  She said: "Naughty boy!"
(Remembering his childish pranks to catch the moon)
He is not a mimosa now, he grew into an astronaut,
Life, you see, is a mirage, a MAYA!