Wipe your tears, my son
For sorrow despite being hollow
Can't spring from the can
Where its envy won't steal your halo.
Wipe your slate clean, my son
The way you've erased past failures and discomfitures
To pave the way for bright rays of the sun
That promote and votes for congenial cultures.
Wipe away traces of rancour, my daughter
For the purpose of your life lies deeper
Than crumbs and pittances that flatter
Tongues and lips of a leper.
Wipe off seeds of diffidence, mom
Saunter with measured aplomb
Towards a warm welcome
That awaits you in a love-filled home.
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