Warm yellow lights all around,
The ambience was indeed spellbound.
The walls were drawn with pictures of the young,
Held by the mother’s arms humming lullabies unsung.
The huge rooms had their own stories,
Happiness and pain taking away all the memories.
Hearing the shrills of a new born in one,
A mother and father’s gleaming eyes on their newly born son.
So small they were, starting from the tip of my fingers,
To the end of my elbows.
Swaddled beautifully with colorful caps,
They were busy daydreaming with their long naps.
That room brought a different aura of nirvana,
By the little ones like a corona.
Tender beautiful skin shining so brightly,
Mothers cleaved them next to their skin so closely.
Sometimes they laughed,
Sometimes they squalled.
In the dreams of their own,
Talking to the Gods of their yesteryear’s unknown.
Crimson cheeks, I feared to touch,
Thinking my fingers weren’t gentle too much.
With eyes closed, the lips swayed,
One moment grin, the other grim, it was so naive.
More memories to be cherished I patted myself,
A camera, a pen ready for a chronicle of thyself.