My Father

He held my hand when I was little
Helped me to read, write and scribble
Here is a poem for him, my father
A person so honest, patriotic and noble

There is so much to share
So much to apprise
As endless memories
Flash before my eyes

Learning languages
Was his ultimate passion
Languages, he said, help bond and relate
And spark mutual communication

Sanskrit, Marathi, English and Hindi
Were the languages that he mastered
But to learn more and explore
Was a wish that he always fostered

With an eloquent speech
And a beautiful handwriting
He gave utmost importance
to meticulous writing

He always read and read a lot
A voracious reader and writer, I always thought.
Cooking, cleaning or any other chores
He always did with professional scores

Ups and downs
In life’s narrow pathways
Never stopped him from
Being self reliant always

Savings of his hard work
Of toiling day and night
Were only spent in shaping us
And for our delight

These priceless jewels of his teachings
He bestowed on us all without fail
Yet he calls himself a broke
As he lies in bed tired and frail

I pray for his strength and strive for his cheer
To return the smiles he gave me, in double
With utmost respect and love for him, my father
A person so honest patriotic and noble.