An End Of An Edge Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

What do we think of giving to our children in hand?
Garden blossoming with beautiful flowers in barren land?
Do we want to leave for them no ancestral asset?
We need to leave for them clear option to reset

We might have done nothing or trained in different way
They might have been suppressed at home without any say
All sorts of restrictions and no room for fresh air to breath
Are we not sending them to gallows or near to the death?

Do we really think that knowledge is confined only in books?
Is it not out of date to prepare bad food and serve s an expert cook?
They will have no ideas as what to do or follow?
We must give little time to shape for them or allow

It is an age of open competition with vast knowledge
They may have chance to prove their excellence on edge
We did all mischief in our life to create gulf and wedge
How all of sudden we wake up when reached to an end of age?

Care them nicely so they come up of their own
You are their guide and path must be shown
You must see to it that they are fully grown
You can expect better yield when seeds are properly sown

Every parent would love to do so many things
They want their children on top with best doing
They may feel bad only when they fall short
They may bear pain and keep it hiding in fort

It will be fort turned into fortress
They will store feelings in form of stress
They may expect nothing more or nothing less
If we fail to deliver well then they may hardly be able to face

We got to be prove our selves as good gardener
We must be able o understand and able to garner
It is undeveloped mind wanting every possible care
We need to take them to the near goal or somewhere

We can mauled them in a way it is desired
They are upcoming lots and to be admired
It is not only our duty but our obligation
It should be discharged without any question


When they are up and in full blossom?
Roots may be firmly placed at the bottom
There has to be complete spring with nice scene
It will be pleasant to see and enjoy the fruits even seen