part of a whole, in a father’s scroll

o! thou humble being of mortal sighs
how eternity would wish to see you grow,
but jinxed with time and age are we,
the grays, to smudge the beauty untold…

from rough textures rises a tender touch,
in eyes that pierce, hide tears that glow
as if moulded with your own hands i am
then what be looks to tell, and touch to show..?.

it flowed, those tears, but to eyes unseen
oh, how my soul wept to see yours in grief,
but youth and bliss, overwhelming indeed
i wandered, i bled, i learnt, i see..

berries and seas grow fifty years old
whats told, are the fragrance and tales to be sworn,
if not today, then never should i say
my maker, you are, my father, my soul….

. ( for dad…seasoned for fifty years…)