He is bustling with energy
He runs, he shouts and he cries
Not staying quite for a second
Always under watchful eyes.
The joy he has brought
Into our boring lives
Our home is his playground
And we are his stooges.
All the mischiefs he does
Bringing angry looks from his mother
But he knows he can find support
If not from me, then from his father.
The prank he plays everyday
To avoid going to school,
His pestering little questions
Makes it hard to keep our cool.
I can just sit there watching him
Getting through his day
Doing all the stuff
In his own little way.
When he calls me - uncle
My heart pumps up in pride
I forget all the worries in the world
With my little nephew by my side.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.