January, February, March, The cold is harsh. April, May, June, Summer will be over soon. July, August, September, Rain we love to remember. October, November, December, Time to take out coat & furs. ∼ Sanjay Ahluwalia

I am a duck-billed platypus— A very curious creature! My fur is brown, my nose is flat— My most important feature! My tail’s flat, too; my toes are webbed; I live beside the water. I lay two eggs below the ground, And hatch my son and daughter. I mainly feed on snails and worms, And underneath the river I dig …

In March the wind just blows a gale, And whisks the leaves o’er hill and dale. It turns the clouds quite inside out, And tosses branches round about. The early lambs they kick and play, And gambol and jump the live-long day. Their mothers look anxiously around, In case their babies can’t be found! And now the winter’s nearly through, …

I’m Lucy the Ladybird. You’d never guess, I had four little wings, Hidden in my red dress, Unless you should see me Flying away, Some day in the garden, When you’re out at play. ∼ Porter G., Hilda Offen, Pradera, Esme Eve, Alan Jesset, Richard Hooke

Last night I made a man out of pillows and forgotten fragments of clothes we’d pushed into my drawers. I held my pillow-man’s hand and made sure he wasn’t too warm because it is summer; I’m on the second floor; and that was always your biggest complaint. This morning I tried to shower but would turn off the water and …

I feel your hands in my hair. I feel your breath on my neck. I feel your body pressed so close to mine. I feel your lips on my throat. I feel your hands move to my back and your lips work their way up to mine. I feel you and I love it. I hear you say you love …

Love is when you care more about someone else’s happiness than your own, You would do anything for them, You’d rather be with them than anyone else in the world, You would die so they could live, When you lose them it feels like you lose yourself, They’re the only thing you can ever think of, You never even dream …

Oh! Lord your Maya does not give me up even When I have given it up. In spite of my resistance it clings to me and follows me. Your Maya becomes Yogini to the Yogin. It becomes a nun to the monk, it becomes a herald to the saint. It adapts itself to each according to his nature. When I …

Oh! Please tell me, my little grey mouse, If it is true that you live in our house. Perhaps you live just down in our hall, Or even outside by the big garden wall.Wherever you live, I hope it is nice, For you and all the other grey mice. If only you weren’t so terribly shy, And scamper away when …

Once I saw a little bird, Going hop, hop, hop. So I cried, “Little bird, Will you stop, stop, stop?” And I saw going to the window To say, “How do you do?” When he shook his little tail, And away he flew. ∼ Sanjay Ahluwalia