Opening my eyes, all I could see
were countless happy faces round me,
teeming with a perplexed sense of calculation
counting what I failed to, my fingers.
Six o’ them I had, and I had nothing to complain
but certainly, I felt it’s a happy counting game.
The’ one-with-six’, ‘the one-with-six’
was what on my nameplate they fixed,
I had a name, I certainly did
but seldom I heard it.
When everyone had a name for me,
I called myself a ‘sexy-little-Sixie’
But so happy I grew up to be,
that creamy-happiness made me an 88- kg,
they named me again,
leaving me thinking,
how come extra two I gained?
With confusions, I moved ahead,
gave birth to 5 tiny little heads.
Girls they were, and counted their fingers I,
to save from numbers these angels from sky.
But for me they came again with loud drums
Old I grew, with numbers abound
soul departing, lilies-cards around.
In the grave, came Death from afar,
too busy putting souls in his car.
And then I heard him amidst the hue and cry,
“Time for #6885”