By Devi Vaidehi
I was one, you were 31.
You held my hand tight .
Much to affirm-
I wouldn't get hurt by a fall.
Where ever you walked,
A shadow- I was to you.
I was 13 ,you were 43.
You embraced my newly attained womanhood.
With needless anxiety.
Each time you paved a path for me,
I Cared less.
But secretly you became my hero.
I was 18,you were 48 .
Tempered with social compulsions,
I began falling .
With every step I took,
A shadow trailed me.
Secretly you became my savior .
I was 23, you were 53.
You scripted choices for me.
Swooning in the pride of adulthood,
I shoveled a gap between us.
But secretly , you became my teacher.
I was 35, you were 65.
I was no more you favorite.
Like butterflies, your grandchildren hovered around you.
You recreated fables which no longer I heeded.
But secretly I wished to become your little girl again.
I was 42 ,you were 72.
Your frail hands- a remnant of my life.
I held you tight with re-illumed cared.
“Let me go dear,”
Your body coerced me.
My heart swelled.
The fear of falling and failing scoped in.
“Remember I am your little girl , father .”
My eyes answered.
Through hazy oxygen mask
You whispered,
“I will always be with you .”
My tears paused for a blink-
An approval to bid you farewell .
And I loosened my grip.