With children I am crazy.
I play with them brusquely..
I dance with them happily.
I jump with them wantonly.
I talk to them sweetly.
I sleep with them lovingly.
Forgetting my age and size
I become one with them honestly.
The mighty ocean roaring sonorously
looks like a giant snoring vigorously.
The huge waves going high and low
appear like a hillock rising up and low.
The gentle ripples touching the shore
pose a picture of a mother’s loving shower.
The fierce tides dashing against the sand
bring to the mind the teacher’s strict reprimand.
White conches and colourful pebbles lying all over
provide a lustrous glow to the long stretch in a pass over.
The lovely moon and the twinkling stars shining
perch a canopy over the mighty ocean gurgling
loudly in a monotonous tone akin to bad singing. .
Death is a pang say many.
It is but sad to experience.
All men are born to die one day.
It is but true to comprehend.
Death is a great leveller in a finality.
It is but exact to relate.
The mighty, the rich, the poor go the same way.
It is but hard to believe.
Death gives freedom with absolute majority..
It is but relevant to die.
A passionate love it would sound
very much away from the usual ground.
Not similar to the much expected round
as it falls out of the familiar track in the bound.
Never does it imply a hound
as it passes on easily into the surround.
It does not makes the heart pound
nevertheless it relieves the heart from an astound.
It is a passion that abounds
with learning and wisdom profound.
.Reading is my love with a beautiful crown
that leads me to places newly found.