Poem 21childhood

Childhood 2

Through the dense fogs of birth,

where one sees a misty elder,

who is fondly cuddling him,

and

trying to welcome him,

through the hard phase

and

trying to bring him up,

and

encouraging the infant in every step of life,

trying to murder the alphabets

and

trying a good hand on numbers,

trying to be more practical

and

recalling his own experiences,

the phase comes of getting up on one’s feet

and

crawling

and

then walking ,

hand in hand with the elder

who is closely monitoring the movements of his sibling.