*Father*
Pitaji. Abbu. Papa.
A man with infinite names,
The crown of the king he holds,
While burning in a thousand flames.
Tata. Otosan. Baba.
Holds a sceptre of delicate hands,
Closer than any jewel ever,
In the newly bloomed lands.
Buwa. Patri. Otac.
An armour that guards his body,
Until the body ages old and teaches
It being resilient and sturdy.
Isa. Papi. Tatay.
An onlooker who everyone looks up to.
A guardian angel of the sharpest kind,
A delicate stone, shattering with actions few.
Vader. Yebba. Foter.
Mutliple roles bestowed on multiple others.
But everyone has that giant heart,
Of becoming the world's greatest Fathers.
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A/N:
So this poem is more theme based than structure. So please try to ignore the weird flow of it.
Since it's father's day soon, i decided to write something on it.
The various languages in which the word *Father* Is, is written in the comment section beside that line.
Not one of my good works, i agree. But I'm experimenting.
Tell me your views on it.
#Day12complete.
Lovelove!
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Work Of Words
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