Vishal Singh

(28 March / Lucknow)

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Oh Son! My Sun!
My champ your birth, gave me unbounded mirth.
With you, Papa and Mamma are devoid of any dearth.
My boy, you're such a joy,
Prior to you, I used Braille, for the ‘E' of enjoy.
My baby your sublime succulence,
Gives me alpine opulence.
My tiny toy, you're so soft and supple,
Dad is always left, musing in ample.

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