The Teacher

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I one day asked papa,

What it takes to be a perfect father,

He looked deep into my misty eyes and said,

“Son I don’t know, coz I aint one”,

“But all I know is am trying”,

“Trying to fit in the big shoes of ‘The Teacher’”,

That Guy, who gave His ONLY son,

Who lived and died for love,

For children His, to live.

 

Bald, wrinkled,

Grey beards clouding his sagging cheeks,

Dry peaceful eyes, that with each blink,

Tells a happy story of fulfillment,

A golden smile, never fading,

Just like the sun or the sky,

That’s my old man living on love.

 

When my black hair finally grays,

And my sight fails,

I hope I will have seen enough smiles,

On my children’s hearts,

For me to wear one, on my face,

I hope my children will think me great,

Just the way I think of papa,

For showing me the father perfect.

 

I hope, in my old man’s shoe I’ll fit,

As on the footsteps of The Teacher, he follows,

I hope when all fades, and grays and strength fails,

Love will be enough, for me to live on,

Just like The FATHER’S love – UNENDING….

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