Aniruddha Pathak Poems
The Joy Of Giving
Be it no more than a glass of water,
A living walking stick played by daughter,
Care and concern, warm smile, none too hotter;
Or quality time spent with someone old,
Blanket’s warm fold in times forlorn and cold,
In times of need a ready shoulder-hold;
A pair of sleepers to feet walking bare,
Not in loud charity to show you care,
Heart-born feelings when show above false air.
Anything given short of counting ways,
Given to brighten up needy heart’s greys,
To lighten load that too heavily weighs.
Give it ...
No Fathers’ Day card e’er failed to arrive,
Nor yet a sterile call on Mothers’ Day;
A family album on a lean day
Kept deserted memories still alive,
As did the once-in-a-blue-moon visits
That waned thinner as every season changed.
The Spartan flat, once modestly crowded,
Looked more spacious now than it ever was,