There’s a little soul in the home below,
With a smile that’s pure, like a gentle glow.
When I return, worn and weary from day,
His laughter, like sunlight, melts my cares away.

Three years young, with innocence bright,
He knows no sorrow, he fears no night.
His joy is simple, unburdened, and true
A gift he gives, like morning dew.

Little Shanku, I used to call him Shiva Shankara,
With laughter so bright and eyes so clear.
When he’d cry, I’d swoop in fast,
With playful tricks, his tears didn’t last.

His mom would watch, with a curious gaze,
At how I’d calm him in countless ways.
No complex plans or rules to abide,
Just a bit of drama and childlike pride.

He’d wait by my door with his little hands,
Holding my...