That was a Sunday, all kind of us together for a day,
Sat for a usual weekend credo all in a tray,
Tots, youth, men and women all in expanding rows,
Thoughts of mind not so few, entered the little toes.
Elder brother his sister both safe and happy,
Hair straight and skin fair both looked roly-poly,
He trying to place her scarf when she trying to fling it,
Me felt gladsome for both, though the sister being a twit.
She ran out wailing, carrying with her all that eyes,
The careful elder bringing her back, repeats her cries,
Then stood a tall lady nothing lesser than a mother,
The situation well looked and still after.
The unmoving care of the brother amid the gathering,
And the firmness of a trunk towards the approaching gale,
Blessed and thankful should those be when experiencing,
That quick flying scene could never be stale!
Friday, December 14, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: brother,brotherhood