From the diary of a Father: A poem by Nazima Kachwalla


I'm sorry my child,
Wasn't by your side,
When you were learning to walk,
To get you comfort,
I was treading the wild.
I'm sorry my child.

Forgive me, my dear,
Wasn't around,
To hear the first words you spoke,
Building a peaceful home,
Busy was I, struggling to keep away fears.
Forgive me, my dear.

My vacant seat in the audiences,
Absence during the claps and cheers,
Cannot be forgiven,
Excuse me, son, it wasn't much fun,
Watching life through teary images.
Really wasn't much fun.

Today, from my armchair,
I watch all the little things you do,
The warm hugs and kisses,
That are showered on you.
Watching you and your angel makes me glad,
And comes a subtle reminder
"The child always gets the toy the father never had."



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