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the Journey of my mind

I cannot write poetry . However,what I write, I cannot call it prose. Whenever I've shown it to someone they said it was poetry. You read and decide then let me know



Saturday, 7 November 2026

Peterpan

 Our Peter Pan Bapi

Our Bapi was a Peter Pan,
A child at heart, a grown-up man.
He loved good food, fine clothes, and flair,
And how he thrived on love and care!

A little demanding, a little vain,
Childlike at heart, he could be a pain.
But heaven help if things didn't go his way—
He simply had to have his say.
Yet generous, warm, and deeply kind,
A truer soul was hard to find.

When we were young, he spoilt us rotten,
No wish too big, no treat forgotten.
But as we grew, the tables turned,
The same old pampering was what he yearned.

He never quite learnt to stand alone,
Always needing someone to call his own.
Ten long years without Ma by his side,
He braved them all, with quiet pride.

Though illness struck him time and again,
He always bounced back, defying the pain.
But at eighty, his strength gave way,
And this time, he couldn't have his say.

For two long months, he strove and fought,
Surrounded by our prayers and love.
And then his soul so softly flew,
Leaving a smile, forever true.

We miss his stories, his charm, his ways,
His little dramas, his grand displays.

On the 8th of November, 2010,
We celebrated his birthday once again.
Though Ma had left us just a day ago,
We celebrated him,
Despite the pain we bore

And today, in 2026,
He would have been eighty-six.
Bapi, a very Happy Birthday to you,
With all our love,
From your Baltu and Bittu.