Father, O my mother!
The first alphabet that
You taught me to write in my nascent years of my growing -
holding my hand, lovingly and firmly between my fingers
on a four ruled lines of my blank copy
Have, now taken a hold of your hands
in your old age, sagging and brittle
Ushering me towards your
Eternal wisdom
Supple and most beautiful -
A cursive handwriting spooning a feed
Silver to my wishes, showering all your golden blessings
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