On Father's Day

Five years and a month back

I lived,

In and out of love,

Love,

Which much to my chagrin

Would not spread 

Over my head in a continuum.

I was needed

But not so much,

I was loved

But never so much.

The longing

Shadowed the moons

Of brightest nights

And the clouds

Hung heavy in the cleanest skies.

The journey of centuries

Which traversed,

Across several births

Gasped and limped,

With broken breath

And battered soul.

And then

     Five years and a month back

A head with scant hairs

Looked at me

With barely open 

Blue eyes.

I dropped

A finger towards you

And your soft, pink, palm

Cuddled over it,

Securing it 

As a comforting coast 

Does to the anchor 

Of a tired ship.

We went on walks

While you 

Smiled and stared back

Like a little Buddha,

In the small bed of yours;

Set in the stroller,

You saw the ducks

For the first time,

And with you

I evidenced life for the first time,

Drunk in our firsts, 

We smiled as friends.

You would walk

Holding my hands

With uncertain steps

Joining the larger humanity

As a new entrant

Breaking off from 

The fraternity of toyhood 

              To which

 you seemed to belong.

As the novelty of walks waned

You would hang by my being

Begging to be picked

And once picked

 Would beg to sit on the shoulder.

Over the years

A certain deftness and dexterity 

You have earned

As you would swiftly 

Climb through the lap to the  

Shoulder,

No longer needing to 

Balance yourself by pulling on my hair.

I remember that pulling of my hairs, 

Which you no longer need

To resort to,

And dread the day

When I won't 

Even have your weight on my shoulders 

As you will grow

Too big 

And I will grow too feeble

And as the circle completes

We will go back to our first connect

When those tiny, pink palms

Cuddled my finger,

And like a weary voyager

I will rest my heavy head

In your lap,

And close my eyes

Watching 

You someday holding

Your finger

To another pink, little palm.

       - (c) Saket, 16th of June, 2013