Annoyingly lovable

His world is the size of a peanut,
Nothing matters but his family,
Sweats over his son’s journey,
Wants them at home before dark.

Old fashioned but a humble man,
Has done harm to none, but loved,
All his life, giving but never taking,
His deeds are true and lovable!

His day starts seeing his family,
Safe and happy, sleeps peacefully,
Expects a happy home, else slugs,
Pokes his nose in every move!

I’m Clean

Was under the scorching Sun,
All day long, burning in heat,
I noticed a sudden change,
The Sky poured down on me.

I felt refreshed and clean,
As the rain washed the dirt,
Cursed her for driving me fast,
On any dusty road with no care.

She must be happy for the rain,
As she can sleep forgetting me,
Will jump in joy at my sight,
For the rain did her job so clean.

Kavitha Patchamalai

Ouch!

Love the way he cycles for hours,
In between the chats and giggles.
My heart falls on my feet often,
When he vanishes round the corner.

Exhausted, I fall on the big bed,
Aah ! I shout as Legos are there.
Wake up suffocated at night,
To find him sleeping on my chest.

Long to see him wake up smiling,
Find myself lonely if out of sight.
Though his tantrums are aloud,
I rather prefer them to his silence.

Kavitha Patchamalai

First Move

I interviewed him a year back,
Rejected him and moved forward,
As I forget even my neighbours,
Who has nothing to do with me.

Pinged me out of the blue,
Introduced himself politely,
Pleaded for my reference,
Guided him with some contacts.

Thanked me humbly as expected,
Then he said that I am pretty,
Which I already know for sure,
Laughed out loud and bid adieu!

Kavitha Patchamalai

Old Wine

She stares at his weak stature often,

Truly saddened to see his wrinkles,

Once dark and curly hair is grey,

His anxious mind is dark sometimes!

Growing old is cruel for others,

As it’s like watching leaves wither,

Fall to rot, disappearing forever,

With no trace of existence!

Though she forgets, her mind warns,

But her heart refuses and wants,

More time for him, for her sake,

As a father is much dear to her!

Kavitha Patchamalai

Bedtime Stories

Oh I wish I had a recorder,
That reads stories for my son,
I am blank, ran out of stories,
Bluffing cock and bull stories.

I laugh at my pathetic stories,
Poor baby believes them all,
Asking for more the next night,
While I lay miserably exhausted.

Monitors me round the clock,
Repeating my words often,
Can’t hold my mobile for long,
As he warns, I may go blind!

Like a parrot he repeats me,
Rectifies me if I am wrong,
Oh boy! Rules are just for you,
Giggled at my parenting tricks.

Kavitha Patchamalai