My Father Poem by dipak adhya

In each sexagenarian
Who is short and fat
I find my father
And his son in me

A very amazing man he was
Austere but without superstitions
Economical but spent a lot to bring up
Rigid but as soft as feathers.
A teacher he was.
Indeed, a teacher was he,
But he never taught me
How to be rich materially.

My father was my Alphabet to me
And whatever I nurture today
I try to carry his words and thoughts.

Now if a blossom ever comes
And says of success
Just then, I feel his presence
And take pride in, being his pupil and being his son.