Ode to Fathers

In the screwing class, at soothing home

Scenes obscured behind the viel of the past

Of emotions robust, yon vision an epitome

Via peephole of nostalgia, I see they last.

That gullible child , for oft went wild

For the want of big and small needs

Assured a hero that the tot ne’er cried

Ever ready to render all his heeds.

A hero -ne’er flies, revered by skies

Honoured by Shiva, served by Ram

Father it is- God in man’s guise

Sustainer of lives, abode of charm