Childhood returns in old age
Every little hurt brings a tear and an 'ouch'!
No mom is here with a kiss and a blow soft,
But time is plentiful to dry those saline drops
Alone, in quiet, without any body looking.
Once the storm is over
Calm returns as usual
Like nothing has happened
Just but the lees of muddy soil
settled deep down in psyche.
No pilgrimage is enough to
Cleanse that soiled and dusty heart
Than an arroyo of love and forgiveness.
Pioneers are sacrificial lamb
With their flash and blood
Paving the way of greater good.
In my old age I need a
No cook required
High tech kitchen.
Savita you have created a beauty of flowers, and the fairy thus created, has a soul of high imagination. The beauty of your fairy has enchanted me and my heart beats you may listen to in the beats of your charming fairy, This is a story of every old man and woman. For me your poem is poem of the day.
Savita you have created a beauty of flowers, and the fairy thus created, has a soul of high imagination. The beauty of your fairy has enchanted me and my heart beats you may listen to in the beats of your charming fairy, This is a story of every old man and woman. For me your poem is poem of the day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Kitchen gadgets are turning out to be what we want them to be. Your random thoughts seem to be taking definite shape.