Tuesday 22 August 2017

My Fearsome Father

Cry he doesn't, in pain
His eyes may smile, not his teeth in vain 
At the hands of the doctor his eyes may show fear
In front of me he doesn't show it, my dear 
With a cold, he shivers, clutches his shoulders 
Smile nonetheless, he does 
In the heat he walks, without an umbrella nor a cap
Makes sure I, sport an umbrella and a cap 
At the hands of a doctor he's a child 
Discipline he does, me, always like a child 
In front of others he's calm and quiet 
Yet they fear his tongues might 
Uncut and unpolished like a diamond in the rough 
Such shine, even for such a rough diamond


- Sachin