A miracle is written.
Not by a God.
Not by a wizard.
But by a small boy.
It happens.
It happened.
And a new source of light and magic was found.
Adios!
A Miracle.
Tag: History
To my Lord Shri SaiNath.
Lord of the lords,
O! God Sainath,
Always be there with us,
Always have your grace,
Under your wings we must live,
And be happy and peaceful.
Adios!
Redder Love.
Redder love,
Isn’t rare.
Love is red,
A new born baby is reddish red in glow,
It’s only one’s heart,
Which must be in love.
Redder love.
Bueno?
Adios!
Old Memories And Stories.
Old memories and stories,
Want to write a memoir.
They have waited too long,
To know nature of humans,
And they have learnt a lot.
But the memoir which they would be writing,
Would be full of fairies and magic,
As only happiness,
Is the medicine to all diseases,
Either mental or Detrimental.
Adios!
The Playing Of A Boy.
The playing of a boy,
Would please his mother,
He was her charm of her eyes,
Now he can sing many songs to her,
And play hide and seek well,
And his mother is the proudest mother of all.
Adios!
Before You Travel. 