The Boomerang

With the vast open fields,
Around the shadows cast by the trees,
The evening emerging after noon,
And together visible the sun and the moon,
I was playing as it was time,
For any child to enjoy after the hard day’s regime.
That day I had no friends as they didnt come,
All alone not too far from home,
Was thinking of what to do with the thing in hand,
Which was called the boomerang.
I threw it first across the bent,
Ran to it, after it fell, afraid of dent,
It annoyed me as it didnt fly good,
Threw it again, not being rude.
This time along the bent or the curve,
Took a nice flight as it got the right serve,
That excited me to try for more,
As it came back with smile on me in store.
What goes around, comes around,
It always left me spell bound,
The phrase with philosophical meaning,
At that time just a playable thing.
I am reminded, as it is being used again,
As my child is happy and plays with her gang,
Even alone she is with the boomerang bound,
As what goes around, comes around.

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