The Sundays

by Sangeeta Saha
(Kolkata, India)

Never been the Sundays so joyful to me
When I used to take you to your favorite park
And pleased myself just to watch you grow
Bit by bit...part by part
Pushing the ground with your little feet
Moving up and down in a see-saw or a swing
How well you could run faster than others
To climb up a boot-shaped slipway
You never fell down as you clutched your way
To the top of the giant climbing frame
Your playtime ended with your favorite special ice cream
My heart used to be overwhelmed with solace
Just to be with you and watch your happy face
No panic no pain those days passed like some marvelous dream.
With time the Sundays became busy
From morn till night you had to run
To gather extra knowledge to attend many exam
Sometimes I accompanied you sometimes you managed yourself
I liked just being with you always eager to help
But I need'nt be apprehensive as you were self sufficient
Trying to improve more and more striving for betterment
Those were the days to prove yourself to excel among the rest
The task was full of hardship...yes those days the goal seemed not so easy.
Never been the Sundays so precious to me
Till my little child grew enough to bear responsibility
To be the one among many
To shine like a distant star and unfold the blind
To be awakened by the breaking dawn and soak the sun's last rays
To aware the soul of less conscience
Grasping the arms of the feeble and frail
Sometimes I wonder...when did my child become a sensible adult!
The guardian of many a child
Those determined eyes overlooking the burdened shoulder
The passion of an achiever always in the core like burning smoulder
The restless feet crossing all hurdles
A forceful will always choosing the right
The dutiful hands and the never ending duties
The six days of a week from morning till night
And then subtly tiptoeing come the Sundays..
When you again become my little child and rest by my side
As we enjoy the leisure and reminiscence our yesterdays.

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Portraits in Dignity
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