in ,



#Day 20

#Letter P 

Parents were panacea for every ill,

We took them as cause for every ill,

Back then ,when we valued them not.

My mother got up early to cook,

Get our uniforms ready for school ,

Though she never had to go to work,

She loved to sing and read a book,

Did we ever give her time enough?

My father always with a tinge of anger,

Carried from his unhappy childhood,

Did everything  his father would do,

As he had lost him early to death,

He planned a successful life  for us,

Of riches and joys and great respect ,

We faltered , grumbled for interference,

Never did we thank our parents enough.


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Written by Sarita Khullar

Sarita Khullar is a retired associate professor in English from Hans Raj Mahila Mahavidyalaya, Jalandhar. She loves poetry and fiction. She also likes birds, flowers, animals, and humans.

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