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I get a phone call every morn from a far away land across the seas I eagerly wait for the call moving nowhere as the caller speaks so loving and beautiful
Answering each of my questions with a grin and giggle his voice goes up and down like a song holding a frequency attuned to the replies.
He talks with an attitude mature listening keenly to my words responding appropriately to them with a melodious tone and cheer.
He could well understand my language never once he put a question forward I could make out very little of his answers which came out with a spontaneity straight.
Curious to know who it would be you would have by now started to deliberate let me reveal his identity in a way that you could comprehend and admire.
The caller being none other than my cute toddler just one and half years old learning to speak talks he in a language of his own which I, half a century and more, fail to decipher.
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Meenas Poems 