Teen daughter recently said, your writing is sanguine but serious,
She suggested, I write something simple and spontaneous,
Not didactic, yet delicious,
Preferably funny and humorous.
I promised to try.
But mostly to get by.
She has given me a task tough,
As if my writing is not enough.
Our children are our biggest critic,
Some say, they, us mimic.
I think they develop their uniqueness,
In some traits we might see likeness,
In others, clear individualistic starkness,
But surely, unabashed perkiness.
Our dear children that we have had the privilege to rear,
Soon become harbingers of new ideas from far and near.
Not on everything do we see eye to eye,
But fresh perspectives open new doors by and by.
Slowly but surely when life makes us behold,
Turns and events that our parents are getting old.
As we see their medicines grow, walks slow and a stick to hold.
Something in us also changes-silently- untold.
We see how fast things mold,
Time seems heartless and cold.
Circle of life is not just a fact,
Its a journey- beyond act and react,
An individual and a universal tract,
A difficult, yet life’s immutable pact.
The energetic, happy, dashing father one day appears frail,
We see his hearing slowly fail,
Some days he appears pale.
But, his values have left an indelible trail.
Loved beyond measure by his progeny,
His hard work and honesty have defined his destiny,
Passion for travel, outdoors and ceremony,
Are etched in our memories and old photos in harmony.
This new avatar is different, than what was,
Precious and pristine-today as was.
Life is both slow and fast.
Sometimes difficult times seem to forever last,
But happy times go by quickly,
In the wink of an eye, life seems to fly by briskly.
As our children grow,
One wishes time would slow.
Yet, like a river, in a rapid flow,
Time takes no holiday to halt or know.
To its wishes we can just bow,
Memories and moments are all we can stow.
As parents, we slowly learn to let go,
Though, this field is not easy to plow.
Since no one can slow or cease time,
And cannot buy or barter with precious dime.
One learns-every day is prime,
The unknowns are too sublime.
Every year, as the candles on the cakes rise,
And milestones mold and surprise,
I flashback from infancy to toddlers to teens and more,
Years have had pleasures and pains, like any story and lore.
Since many events are without a reason or rhyme,
Happiness is not for another season or clime.
Here and now is the only time,
Before the game ends in grime.
Various and precious roles in life.
Mother, daughter, sister, friend and wife.
Sometimes I grapple, how to juggle?
Some days seem a struggle.
All roles are dear and I wish to tend,
But time and energy are finite in the end,
Some I see seamlessly roles blend.
No easy way for me to navigate this curvaceous bend.
Which amongst my various roles should I prioritize?
How should I categorize?
Not let one act monopolize.
It’s a balancing game to play and strategize.
From none do I want to flee.
Each role is nourishing and dear to me.
Some days I can efficiently manage, like a busy bee,
On others, in my own sweet solitude I find absolute glee.
Some roles pull me in opposite way(s),
Balancing priorities is not an easy play.
What price am I ready to pay?
All relations need time, attention and energy to sway.