Amann Aroraa

(28 March 1993 / New Delhi)

To my grandfather-A tribute

The bushy shrub that you had left
Has transformed into a tree
With greener leaves, ripen fruits,
But you are not here to see.

You, who presented the soil of support,
You, who provided the sunshine of care, .
You, who poured the manure of morals, .
Angel of my boyhood, why aren't you here?

Memories of your sustain in my bark,
To be recalled when I am in dark.
The rides on your shoulder, the evening walks.
The game of cards, my innocent talks.

Your little purse was rich with love.
For it watered my every thirst.
You spoiled me with your pleasant offerings
And looted yourself of comfort.

Then returns the memory of the evil night,
When, alone, you left me to face the storm.
I moaned and moaned to the false assurances,
Weak in my roots, craving for support.

Some losses are not meant to be indemnified
I have learned this with some hard labor.
I can only pray your soul rest in peace
And cherish your memories as my treasure.

Submitted: Sunday, February 03, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

In memories of my late grandfather, angel of my childhood.

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