Years before, when I was begotten on mother’s bed
It was you who fondled with your hands my forehead.
Few good years after, when I was a toddler,
You taught me to take the stride far and farther.
So, there was someone, forever with me.
Walking alone amidst trees and chirping o’ bird,
When I'm joyless and a bit sad,
Your warm hand fills my finger gaps.
That makes me bloom and full o’ raptures.
In pang, when I sob with hot tears,
Your soft kisses dry my wet eyes.
When dusk will hover above me sans moon,
You’ll enlighten my ways with lamp o’ boon.
In my last days, when voice turns feeble and bones lazy,
Your one touch will make me feel rosy.
E’en on my deathbed, far happier will I be
Because, I feel, there’ll be someone, forever with me.
(The poem - a dedication to God - fetched me a nomination of Amateur Poet Of The Year 2005 by International Society of Poets, US.)
It was you who fondled with your hands my forehead.
Few good years after, when I was a toddler,
You taught me to take the stride far and farther.
So, there was someone, forever with me.
Walking alone amidst trees and chirping o’ bird,
When I'm joyless and a bit sad,
Your warm hand fills my finger gaps.
That makes me bloom and full o’ raptures.
In pang, when I sob with hot tears,
Your soft kisses dry my wet eyes.
When dusk will hover above me sans moon,
You’ll enlighten my ways with lamp o’ boon.
In my last days, when voice turns feeble and bones lazy,
Your one touch will make me feel rosy.
E’en on my deathbed, far happier will I be
Because, I feel, there’ll be someone, forever with me.
(The poem - a dedication to God - fetched me a nomination of Amateur Poet Of The Year 2005 by International Society of Poets, US.)
