The gardener’s little daughter,
As sweet as pie,
Wearing a collar shirt,
With a skirt and ragged tie.
Something was about her clothes,
Oversized and dirty with stains of mud,
Standing between smart and elegant crowd,
She was bright but considered dud.
Their careless attitude towards her thoughts,
But little did they know about the battles she fought,
Day and night they feel resented,
But deep inside, her young heart lamented,
With shiny shoes and glittery dresses,
Bought by mummies for their pretty princess,
Those girls gave their best to look beautiful,
But she chose to be bountiful.
She though does miss those caresses,
And tries to find love’s traces.
Her father’s death was a terrible sight,
It ended in the garden with just one bite,
The poison went through the vein,
Left behind tremendous pain,
She lost the face to whom she say good night.
Mummy too found her way up with him,
Leaving behind a peaceful scream,
But life must go on is what she thought,
Fulfilling their dreams is what she sought,
No one should know her secret,
That’s what she always believed,
Putting up a happy face,
She discreetly grieved.
Now she wears his shirt like armour,
Though each day her soul clamour,
She wears his tie to suit the occasions of big,
But they turned her into some hideous gig,
She laughed along with them,
Just so they will be pleased,
Alas! Any chance of hurting her,
They would seize.
But she is one cookie, tough to break,
Fighting a battle with everything at stake,
She now knows, things are not black and white,
Doing what needs to do is the most upright.
It would either be whiner or winner,
She chose the latter and became breadwinner,
Such is the sweet little gardener’s daughter,
Had gone through the fire just like pie,
Pain in the heart but hopes are high.