Daughters are in ways proverbial gypsies.
Content an playful in their itsy bitsys.
The skip, the hop,
Wicker basket, off to shop.
Feel like the waft of calming breeze.
Wide eyed look when you sneeze.
Tender touch of a flower on cheek.
Your loving nod yearn to seek.
Add so much color to life,
forget you all the anguish, strife.
Vivacious laughter thrills.
The nooks an crannies fills.
Your heart and soul bloom.
Wash away your gloom.
They the tender shoots of today.
In time shall bloom another day.
Bring forth flowers of the morrows.
To slake the torment of your sorrows.
And one day late in evening shadows.
Amid song, dance and the meadows.
They go their way.
Far away.
To a new abode, a better place.
To lend a cheer, to give solace.
Leave the stark an silence behind.
For you to find.
Only the stars to guide you by.
Awake in bed as you lie!
(Islamabad)
(May 13,2009)