BAREFOOT IN THE PARK

My parents have a lot to grumble.
When I've seen a couple of dozen summers in life,
They say that their dreams are so far unfulfilled.
And instead of a shining, sharp sword,
I transpire to be a blunt and weak knife.

They say that their son is such a ridiculous dove,
Who does not cherish to have a rich wardrobe,
Who hardly finds pleasure in common luxury
That keeps a boy run to grow to be a man for life - Mercury.

While some boys even try to touch some distant stars.
Some even dare to drop on top of Mars.
But in comparison, what about their son?
An impractical, dreamy eyed think-tank guy,
Whom life finds an useless fellow, others define as shy.
Their son finds heaven in strolling on the beach,
To discover the dance of fire-flies in the pitch black dark,
To see in chilly night, the whizzing fleet of blinking cars,
And to walk in summer barefoot in the park.

My parents find their son with problem of preference only,
But their son finds that all the parents are of same type.
They do belong to the same known world and think alike.

But the son is happy to note that he is not all that lonely.

Partha Pratim Majumder