ग़मों को ओढ़, कर सोता है पर ,मुस्कुराता है,
अपनी बस्ती का बाशिंदा है ये समझ आता है !

I SEE YOUR PRETTY FACE,HERE
IN MY LITTLE HEART
ALL THE TIME,
YOUR MEMORIES KEEP COMING,
RINGING, LIKE A WIND CHIME !!

It's

     not

          necessarily

                     the

                           heart,

                                  my

                                      mind

                                             is

                                                 equally

                                                           sensitive !!

Does nobody notice him
Other than me?
They must hear him cry
His tired lungs screeching
Screaming so painfully, so loudly
That nobody hears.
Can you not hear him?
He who cries.
He who screams.
He who's throat desiccated.
He who's ignored.
He who's crying out for help
But will receive none.

Pale lit forest limbs
Like brush strokes from a palette
Wiped clean by moonlight.

Aristotle would've played a mean guitar , he'd pack 'em
inside Madison Square Garden for sure
Dropped down on one knee wailing a solo
Lyrics filled with forethought an innuendo , on a world tour with his
bass player Plato , the Beatles and Pink Floyd would've been
the opening act for this rock and roll dynamo*...

To some,
This life is a maze,
To some just a path,
To others a confusing,
Distant memory.
Never be afraid of what's not yet set,
Before you start to age.
Some may dither,
Others they stumble,
But you remain graceful & strong.
My Granddad,
My hero.
Your wit must have seen you some trouble,
But your charm surely helped you out of a  few pickles.
That heart warming smile fills a room.
My Granddad,
My hero.
No one can ever compare to you.

My love for you
Cannot be contained
By ten words