Where I grew young, and he grew old
There stood I, by the, river’s turn
My ‘Constant Gardener’, had last told
“Son! strew me here, free from, my urn”!

As his, dust dissolved, in the tide, of time
I reminisced, where it, all began
From the, warmth of womb, care’s paradigm
How I found, cold love, in the arms, of that man!

To call him ’father’, my mother, had taught
A ‘Constant Farmer, who farmed, my soul
With his, blood and sweat, what not, he begot
A man, on his tomb, now standing tall!

Why it took, an age; his want, to find
A lasting legacy, beyond any measure
The Maker’s spirit, in a man, enshrined
Faith’s endless endeavor, Fathers Are Forever…!

© 2019 Vikas Chandra

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