My Hero, My Guide

By Kripa Mary

There’s a man, who reads my eyes,

Observes every step like the spies.

He shows how I am my only opponent,

He disciplines me from moment to moment.

He dreams my journey a decade ahead,

I ask hundreds of queries, he answers with cool head.

His words seem direct and blunt,

Even the brave cannot confront.

He throws me into arena of my fears, trains me to fight,

Corrects my choices, guides my attack with his insight.

He lets me free, to fly, explore the sky,

But he often passes a decree, I must comply.

Some days he sits beside, talking his heart out,

Often goes on silence like a monk, that leaves me in doubt.

When he treads far, I just miss the warmth of his presence,

There’s nothing worse than his absence.

Not once has he uttered “I love you”,

Yet, seizes every chance to make me feel loved too.

No photographs of us, but he captures my every growth in a chart,

He doesn’t confess I’m special, but shows me I am a divine art.

He’s often busy, but always assigns a portion of his clock,

Although weary, he holds my hand, takes me for a walk.

He fights anything for my smile,

Loving in deeds is his style.

Yet, I can’t decipher his way of loving,

But experiencing it is gently endearing.

His presence is a sense of security,

His smile is a rare beauty.

He often proclaims he isn’t handsome,

Live life fearless, simple, easy, his life’s anthem.

He a fearless tiger, I a cub, his joy, his pride,

He my father, my hero, my guide.

By Kripa Mary