Tuesday, April 18, 2017

My Magician


It's been an empty decade and a half,
Without your infectious laugh.

No one to eat medu vadas with,
Or drink Sharjah shakes with.

All the ugly fights we fought, 
And the dirty jokes you taught.

Each dreadful morning to school, you were by my side,
To wipe my tears and to give me a ride. 

Your obsession with Hercule Poirot and Baywatch, were unmatched, 
I tried my best to stay detached.

You are my home,
I latch onto every memory of yours, like a honeybee to it's comb.  

(Writer's Note : This poem is about my grandfather, who died when I was a teenager. He made my world alright, without a magic wand or spells. He was always ahead of his time and had a broad-mindedness, which often shocked people of his generation. Needless to say, he was extremely popular and really close with his grandkids.)

2 comments:

sidharth sunil said...

:')

Gayatri said...

@Sidharth :-)