To Father
By Shreya Ghoshal
The one from whom I got my identity,
who's the pillar, who makes me a living entity.
The two hands were his who fought my woe,
they lifted me high, when my escalator was slow.
One who completes me from tip to toe,
he's my father, who knows me better than I know.
When my fingers feel the lines of hardships on his forehead,
can't even project the picture of struggles, for us, that he made.
I can't be the lotion to heal those lines in piles,
but can change them into wrinkles of smiles.
I can't give his comfort back that is lost for me,
but can make sure comfort will be at his feet, with a bouquet of glee.
For us, he makes the moon easily available,
adorns our lives with diamonds and jems
but for his own self , bargains not even a small pebble.
He is a person very austere,
of course, his kind is exceptionally rare.
"Your love is so unconditional,
if am a state then you are my capital.
Without soil, nowhere exists the petal,
similarly, I can't be the petal without you, my sepel."
Taught me to withstand the storm,
also to keel the fire on in every form.
He's the heat that keeps me warm in my cold days too,
he's the demigod of mine, since when I opened my lids, I knew.
He's the polestar, who lights the path cutting the clouds,
shows my boat its way, even from far in the crowds.
He's the big perennial mountain that's never going to be old,
cause its core is as pure as the colour of the molten gold.
"When the thunder gets loud,
you're the gentle soothing cloud.
That get's to its own as droplets,
to fill the navel of the ocean to its full.
I know, till now the proud moments were few,
but your treat from my side is still due.
One day, I will be the overwhelmed, outstretched shoulders of yours,
also will try to be the remedy for your heals and cures.
Thanking you a dozen times is not sufficient with a bowed face,
for the number of times you tied my lace.
You are the charm, the shine, and also my grace,
You are the one whom I want myself to embrace."
By Shreya Ghoshal

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