Each mother hope lies
In its child born to fly
And touch the ambition sky
Flapping the wings of success with each try.
As charm of each child is everyone’s pride
When it smiles with nothing to hide
The innocence like serene dawn
From its sleep while it happily yawns.
So it is dear and superior
Which has to brought up with care
As the year around in the ground
Soaring high the child could be found.
Copyright © Venkatesh Raghava | Year Posted 2018
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