Where are the little ones
Far far away
My home so spick and span
Where little feet once ran
Walls long for work of art
No shrieks and points of dart
No grimy soiled hands to clean
Footprints of play not seen
My pots and pan sit still
No assembly on the window sill
Silence longs for howls and yells
Only sounds of windchime bells
Emptiness as days and nights prolong
The twitters gone long
My home is spick and span
Where little feet once ran
– Pradnya Surve
How beautiful and touching this piece is 💚💚
Omg! Two poems both making me 🥺🥺🥺
I’m just trying to hold back time. He turned five a few days back. And every moment I see him I feel why is he growing up sooo fastðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
And this verseðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
Lovely💚💚
So sweeet.. The pain of kids growing up!
Friends, both my children have grown up and are in their own professional and social space.Daughter has migrated to another country. But certainly miss the banter and activity of young kids
Empty nest syndrome, beautifully portrayed
Such a lovely piece… Very well expressed💚💚💚
Awe, twinning my thoughts. Touching 😊
Beautifully penned it. 💚💚
The empty nest… how gnawing a pain it is !
Very lucid and crisp.💚