When you were two and I was twenty,
I held your little finger and said,
Lift your foot and try my son,
I'd hold you as you walk ahead.
When your feet reached the school gate,
Your mother's eyes had tears of joy,
Her son was entering the temple of knowledge,
But, just then you began to cry.
Who of us can forget that day,
When your board results were expected,
And, you, my son, had excelled the exam,
So, we all went out and celebrated.
You studied abroad for seven long years,
And, came back with a degree and wife,
We were happy, more than you knew,
For, our son had composed his life.
Today, you have your own family,
And, our need is no more there,
But, I hope you won't leave us like junk,
For, now, all this isn't rare.
I hope you'd hold our arms when we,
Fall down for our legs are weak,
And you would not shout at us,
When we don't hear what you speak.
We hate listening about Old age homes,
And when children dump their Mom and Dad,
We don't want to leave our sweet home,
And the memories of the fun we have had.
Though today, we may not be of use to you,
For, we have grown a bit too old,
Do remember our hands of love and care,
And stretch yours, for us to hold.
I hope you love us even at this stage,
For, we love you and would do so always,
Remember, you'd also grow old sometime,
And, hope the same from your kids, in those days.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem