Playing your inconsequential games
You are growing.
Nothing remains the same
You are growing.
Your games will gain consequence,
Your warbling will acquire sense,
You will no more come
To lay your head on my lap,
You are growing.
It gives me pleasure,
It makes me afraid,
I will no more be able to pick you up
And kiss you better
When you fall,
Since you are growing.
I hope the consequences of
Your consequential games
Prove congenial.
Maybe
Then my protectiveness you will resent.
Therefore,
This moment I savour
When I mean to you a lot more.
—
Also read A Mother’s Heart [POEM]
Poetry lover? Check out Gitanjali: A Collection of Indian Poems by the Nobel Laureate
