Birthing and nurturing,
My compassionate inner-self,
Desired to make a painting.
Etching colourful lines,
To the canvas of life.
Toiled to stretch the canvas,
Across the wooden frame.
But in vain!
Thought to paint on a wooden board.
"Oh no...the board is too hard.
How do I make it smoother?"
Even the strongest brush was not working.
Obstacles tilted them ...
I dropped my brush and cried for a while.
B'coz deep inside the painter -
That day was a child...my 'Bambino'
I tried to stifle its cries,
But couldn't silence its voice-
A hungered voice to interplay with colours.
Finally, I gave my inner child the space,
To come out and play.
Fleetly, the obstacles became the sandpaper.
The more they scratched and hurted,
My board became smoother and shinier.
Alas! the sandpaper ended up useless.
And, my imagination was now boundless.
As 'Bambino' within me was still ageless!!
— The End —