#MothersDayPoem
The fragrance of my childhood,
Hides in the folds of your embrace,
when playing was itself learning,
the stars and moon stories,
twinkle twinkle riddles,
swinging and sliding was always
the sweetest presence,
growing up by listening
the tales of rabbit nd rat race,
to the brave acts of lord Krishna,
to the great lessons of Gita
has always kept us restless as children.
From either dadi's night stories,
or Dada's noon anecdotes
both had those elderly values.
From gardens to doll house
from lunch to straight dinner...