When the bowl of porridge,
Dug and stained the apron and the face,
And then pasted on the pretty dress,
Of the elegant mother,
The soft porridge with vegetables,
Mixed with two little hands,
And then fed the mother,
Who held the spoon and the bowl,
The erosion was found beside the cute mouth,
No kerchief could clean it to be smooth,
The babies tried to catch the food,
The mothers were surprised in delight,
The handful of porridge that went into,
The mouth of the father,
he was in the heaven to look at the stars,
Those twinkled in his spinning head,
While his wife had the ecstatic wish,
Shared of loving message in silence,
The babies are the reason for the couple,
To go closer and nurture the tree of love.
To go closer and nurture the tree of love Babies light up the life of parents. Thank you.
Your nice poem reminds of a thirukkuRaL. amizthinum ARRa inithEtham makkaL siRukai aLaaviya kUZ. thirukkuRaL 64
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
or childre are so important part of our life. good write