Remembering You

You often used to come home tired From a thankless yet hard day's job, Looking for someone loosely wired, And I stand in front like a stuck doorknob. Rage bubbling in like pent up breath Would make the guilty me struggle Like a prey caught in jaws of death; And my kid sis can't see looming trouble; Ma in search of a soothing balm— To serve a quick hot healing cup Of tea, the rest try, cover up, And fend as one team that things sooner calm. On fire for long the cooking pans Cursing rest, smug on kitchen shelf, But mother's worried countenance Oh finds it hard to calm down her stiff self. My luck beginning to fail me, My nemesis as always prone To curry your favours for free, She'd soon spill beans in their barest of bone. As making new mischief was mine, Punishing perhaps was your way Of de-stressing on thankless day, Mischief helped me recharge energy line! So I'd keep inviting your ire In disregard of your day's pain, Adding my fuel to your fire, The routine was set in repeating chain. But I knew you loved me no less, That punishing me pained you more, You were not one love to express, I still feel warmth of your love in my core. As true son I know I was no different, I didn't need to beat your grandson, Yet, not any less adamant, As breads, baked we're in similar oven. ______________________________________________________ They were my early school years. I was rather a hyperactive mischief-mongering, my father an over sincere head of a post office would take all the work-load as his own, with the subordinates delegating upward more and more. He would be home very tired everyday. And I would become the victim of his ire. To punish me had become almost a routine. But in the morning following punishment, he would feel somewhat sorry and shower extra love and praise to me. This poem is dedicated to him. ______________________________________________________ Reminiscing | 08.09.08 |