Child Inside Poem by Saroj Padhi

A child sleeps inside us
like a winter frog in hibernation;
a submerged instinct too deep
to swim up as a clear passion!

Sometimes when it's late
and I crawl out of bed
in my blind urge,
in my desire's dotty surge
to secretly see the moon
from the roof;
she follows from behind,
and tugs my ears
though causing little pain
I feel, I'm a child again;

when children are seen playing
in a puddle, splashing waters
or I'm in a game of football
under hours of showers-
smearing the sandal soil
on each other's face divine,
we all are kinds of kids
who for love simple, always pine;

when my children teach me
how to take a screen shot
on my old mobile,
the sheer delight of such a shot
makes me feel I'm a child, idiot;

when beams burst upon us
like tigresses of the lusty night
and has sweetly torn us into shreds,
we long to recoil to moments of past
where we played couple-game in dust!