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