The frolicsome infant nested, deliberately,
In his mothers' arms,"Dont let go mother"
The churning senior marked the passerby smile.
An scrupulous man tooketh the infant.
The scrupulous man, now unscrupulos, says,
"Come, my child. The days are bright; look
Forward. Your nascent bliss hath just begun"
The infants cry was heard far and wide.
'Childhood', many say, 'is inexpressible'
But I say childhood is traditional idiosyncrasy'.
It is a transitory foolishness. It is a happy day.
It is a nostalgia. It is an innocence too drastic.
The scrupulous man groweth old and loving.
8 years hence, the infant grew cold and unloving;
Arrogance and mischievous was his act
Unfaithful his duty, hurtful his deeds.
Falling deep in impulsive decisions of ado.
The so-called mature infant now condescend
the mother and the scrupulous man - 'annoying!'
A mark of poor soul, that doodle aimlessly,
In the mist of change and labyrinth.
With the years waving past like tides on a shore
The green leaf is now brown, and here it sheds,
'Pardon mother, know well the brown stigma is long gone'
Says gently the nonchalant infant, for seldom wisdom breathes-
"Mark my words, my friends,
Weep and cry, I will
Looking forward, also I will
Alas, the last day is also a first"
The college faceeth the grown infant,
The infant faceeth the young college,
And the scrupulous man says, "You were
But a little child when first faced school
"Growing and growing everyday,
You grow beard, and you turn adult. Now
You face life, the bigger labyrinth, but to you
Still our child, always our child"
O' scrupulous man, O' Father!
