Evening Star
Even since childhood, many tales I hear,
Upon Mom’s knee, and grandma dear.
They speak about a kingdom, above in the sky,
Of boundless terrain unbelievable magic and miracles, my! my!
…This kingdom ruled my fascination, in my younger year.
Mother wove around it, tales enchanting to ear,
Of silver fairies, glowing angels, sabered archangels and where soft clouds schmear.
Of souls so beautiful, without poverty pain or cry,
To go and confirm for such a place existing who would not try?
…because such a place is bound to be fascinating if it is actually there.
Grandma said, “my tour is due, and soon I’ll join grandpa there,”
Hearing which I burnt black with envy like a bear.
I acted as courteous, cause I was sly,
To accompany grandma was the secret resort I meant to ply.
... Afterall this place held my fascination now even more, like the evening star full of sheer.
Mom’s eyes misted, and grandma’s grew soft, as she pulled me near,
Pecked my cheek, ironed my hair here and there.
I’m all grown up and my lungs burn and fry,
I’ll watch you from above my kid, don’t create this raucous cry.
I wouldn’t be convinced, and why should I, for this place is so so very fascinating and full of cheer, just like the star full of sheer.
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