I woke up little early this morning
Not knowing any reason at all
For the daily chorus was as usual
As the air was silent and fresh;
Simmering light whatever little,
Permeating inside from the iron grill
Trickling cold seeping by my sole,
To beam praise to my writing table
That,
Today the day will be special for an ink
With caressing words that it will drink
The aroma that will croon with supple hands
The loving mystery of Motherly love!
Author: Tapeshwar Prasad
