Dear Father

It is my garden of heart,

I play in it carefree,

I step on the fallen leafy memories,

I hop in the shade of imaginations,

I stumble in the whizzing sorrow wind,

Oh my father!

Gardener of feelings, in the beautiful garden,

I remember the deplorable autumn,

Yeah I can see you there,

You are in my garden,

You hold this, my little hand,

With emotional breeze of your experience,

You give me hope of awe in imminent spring,

Again I levitate on the green carpet in the joy,

I swing in the swinging bed of bliss,

My senses are held high,

They become secular in your sight,

Absolutely no signs of sigh,

I play in it carefree.

©Kranthi Kiran Ale

19/01/2016