Sibling bond is special and unique, With shared history of pleasure and pique, Though relations change with time, Fond remembrances remain of when it was prime. So many memories of pranks and play, I recall today, on your birthday, Hiding grades from parents is just one, Shared secrets of mischiefs are in ton. Many incidents bring a chuckle to my face, Those lazy summer days to brace, When time moved at a slow pace, Disagreements were rampant on people and place, You were both my foe and friend, Despite arguments that happened to no end, Our common defense against parents, Was like gutsy soldiers standing up against mighty tyrants. There were no phones to give us company, Our tech free childhood is our shared journey, With board games, talks and an occasional outing, We kept busy with outdoor play without parental scouting. As we grow and have new relations in our fold, Hope new bring you as much joy as old!
Going for a walk with my mom was not easy, Frequent stops of hellos would make me dizzy, I wondered why she would smile at so many, Time is also a precious penny. Now I understand why she stopped to greet, For many, her smile and hello was their daily treat. She understood-old age is lonely and hard, Not many halt to say hello in the yard. Now, I understand why she was perky and patient, My perspectives on life were naive and nascent, Sharing concerns are what make us humane, Though, chides during youth were in vain. Now, I understand, life is more than a series of chore(s), I too, one day, will be old with a reputation to ramble and bore, Narrate old tales, health troubles, and older lore, Others too will be interested in other things more. I too will wish someone would stop and talk, Smile and greet and ask me about my walk. I too will wish someone would not be in a hurry, Stop, smile, small-talk and not want to escape and scurry.
Balance in life is a tease, Not practiced with ease, Since we like routines that please, Over stretching to the point of disease. Equilibrium is the art of a trapeze artist, Trying, falling, and retrying the circuit, One can see- it’s not easy to travel this orbit, Balancing our heads and hearts is the hardest, Destination for all is the rope’s end, Till fate says your time is spend, And no more remains to lend, This balance is a dance with myriad twists and bend. While new experiences enrich, Slowing and savoring has its own precious niche. I cherish my alone time, And also enjoy company sometime, Sharing experiences are precious dime, But being with one’s thoughts is sublime.
The bench an a park has a dedication, Installed in memory of a loved relation. Honoring departed ones are an age old tradition, Motivation can vary-a connection, a perpetuation. Relations do not end with passing of a person, Sometimes, it can even stir deep latent emotion, Propelling new work and action, To carry on a loved one's legacy- a passion. Love transcends our time on earth, Is death just a change of home and hearth? Anything that gives those living a solace- a berth, Is worthwhile in its inception without dearth. This pouring of love can also become a mission. Death does not have to be a conclusion, It can be be a succession, Of deeds, values and learnings in continuation. Makes me wonder-what do I want my legacy to be? After its fall, does it matter how tall or short was a tree? Why should anything matter when one cannot sense or see? Is a structure, a memorial or a cause, for me? Not a memorial, but, let love and laughter be my legacy, After I pass-may you remember me with glee, Not as a serious and sanguine person, But someone who's could bring a smile to your face without reason.
What do you call a home? A place to rest, after you roam. A pad to share with those with a common genome. Or is it firstly and fore-mostly - a feeling, a syndrome? Rooms, furniture and furnishings make a dwelling, What makes a home a deep, special feeling? With what and how much effort and intent? Are homes sustained despite consent and dissent. While each unit runs on different principles and note, Home is ideally where members care and camaraderie devote- On each other to feel unequivocally loved, With space to exist as individuals-without being judged. So many emotions are at play in each home, Good, bad and ugly-to which we are all prone, Sentiments are teased and tested at regular doses, High and low feelings exist with and without proses. Happy homes run on large heartedness, Dollops of forgetfulness and forgiveness, Not on dominance and oneupmanship, But on positive vibes and lasting friendship.
Passion for a purpose is a unique gift, That can bring its bearers an unnamed lift, The act itself- is to which you bow, Its also to be in a state of flow. Each of us have unique talents and skills. Not all exist to pay the bills. Trance worthy love for the act in itself is a reward, As we have heard of many painter and bard. How does one identify such a calling or cause? That can make everything else go on a pause. Is it inherited or inculcated? How is it promoted and percolated? The activity may not be rational to many, It may not fetch you a precious penny, But, absorption in the cause is unique from any. Not all actions have to be clever or canny, Lucky are those that can find such an emotion, Dedicate their hours and years with deep devotion, Seeking and finding such a purpose is grace, Indulging in perfecting it, is life’s purpose and pace.
What if we get to live twice? Would it feel like a bonus prize? Will we live differently with perspective? Will life be sweeter in retrospective? Second time, I will play, stray and smile more, Will not let petty problems disturb my core, Understand life’s a tapestry of encounters to explore, Some to cherish and others to endure. Second chances are given on many day(s), If not in entirety, then in some small or big way(s), Key is to quickly understand and play, Hopefully, the second time we can better sway. Our children also help us relive our lives, In their choices, we can vicariously thrive. Sometimes we wish they would take the ford, Then we have to remember-its for them to choose their road. Chances in life are resplendent and rife, Many say-the biggest lessons come from dear wife, God willing, one learns and remembers without many strife, Trick is to grab second chances and not be stuck in life.
On a walk along the tree lined path, Strewn with leaves, not yet swath, A relaxing sight for my sore eyes, Amidst nature’s bounty, peace abides. I wish we could exist like leaves, Not flaunting or faulting principles or beliefs, Yet, co existing in harmony, Photosynthesizing, without ceremony. Old ones giving way to new, Circle of life in full view. All hues of green and brown on trees and ground, Each has a role to play and then to earth is bound. Cycle of youth and old, Like seasons hot and cold. Is nature’s way in every fold, Continuity of life is gold, Leaves cannot discuss right and wrong, Or the multitude of perspective and prong, Harmonious existence-short or long, Is its way-subtle, spontaneous and strong!
Wardrobes don’t just house clothes, They are a time machine that can bring forth, Smiles, laughs and emotions in drove, Some items are a treasure trove, Recently, while rearranging dresses, tops and shorts, I recalled a shopping trip where we bought, A dress for a prom an year, And shoes to match the gear. These reminiscences are not unique in their plot, Yet, lived differently for each parent and tot. A red coat that we together got, Hangs in my closet with the lot, Celebrated its 10th without a spot, My teen had said-“this looks hot", A deluge of memories of worn and wear, Even amidst some torn and tear, Makes ordinariness of life- special and dear, And in hindsight without a peer. So if you wonder, "does time truly fly?" Isn’t it a relative phenomenon that goes by, Open a drawer, a closet or a chest, A find might open a memory door-the very best.
I remember as a child losing a favorite toy, Nothing said could bring back the joy. After tears, tenderness and time, I accepted the loss, And learnt a vital lesson of acceptance and moving across. Letting go is a complex art, Attachments are like sweet and sour tart, Detachment is not something for which we have a draft, Yet, life and living demands that we embrace this craft. Though generations before us have walked this path, Yet, each individual is on one’s own swath. Slowly we learn not all lost can be restored, Sadness and sorrow have also to be endured. Loosening some chords can cut sharper than a knife, Yet, holding on is against the natural order of life. Since losses in life are rampant and rife, It does not help to put up a strife. The sojourn of acceptance, Is not bereft of inner agitation, Can challenge many a disposition, But eventually leads to affirmation and personal evolution.