Theirs, to me, is the most scintillating language
The one without words
Without voices or verse, just
Meaning- a cosmos of it, I can see
In their naïve smiling eyes, their baby fingers, their
Ebullient “oohs” and “mmphs” and gurgles,
Their springy laughter that leaves echoing
In my ears, an intricate array of reminiscences
On the unexplained enigma of
A lost childhood; of the complex beings
They’re fated to reduce to,
Of the most familiar language I once knew
But never learnt - stupid me -
The unparalleled beauty of simplicity, sans
The scholarly sense and sensibility that men worship
And of the tacit expressions they conduct so robustly
Without speech or learning,
Filling me with their contagious emotions
Immediately as I come in its contact.

Man’s emotions are complicated, that’s perhaps why
They’re so compatible with the simple sound of innocence.