Like the blissful songs of morning birds,
Like the joyful voices of singing cherubs,
Like the silvery droplets of the wooded cataracts,
And like the tinkling of silver bells,
Children’s laughter reached my ears and soul
And I welcomed it as parched earth during drought
Soaked in the first drizzle of the Monsoon rains,
Refreshing and rejuvenating,
My ailing heart with its plethora of aches,
Torn memories and fruitless dreams .
I woke to the plays of my grandchildren
And shook of my lethargy and doldrums
To face living another day.