Me and him

Or to be just

Him and me.

A relationship unique

Aged and experienced, 

I thought I was

Until

His inexperienced freshness

Taught me more.

Mature I was in my eyes

Until

His immaturity showered

Fundamentals I had never learnt.

Big I was no doubt

Until

I was bullied by his tininess.

I was beaten, may be bruised,

By him,

yet

The pain became pleasure.

Was made to run, to jump,

. Panting with an over-pumping aged heart.

Yet

Breathlessness transformed to joyfulness.

Big, though I was, was made to

Crawl,  horse-ape, and do

Monkey tricks,

Yet,

Ashamedness was uprooted from my thoughts.

Was I a toy to be played with,

So that I can be toyed with?

Was I a boxer’s punch bag,

To never complain of hits I take.

No.

A playmate, a friend,

Sometimes a jester, a clown,

Never a threatening adult,

Or a domineering egoist.

Purified by his innocence,

Guarded by his untainted love,

Enveloped with his glee ,

Melted by his cool smile.

Me and my grandson,

Or justly,

Grandson and me,

Linked by the bridge,

That age and time  will further strengthen,

Weather and weight can never wither,

The one that is called

The Generation Bridge.

sureshkumar