Precious Moments
Precious Moments
As I tread down memory lane
Precious moments flow down my mind;
Moments of joy, of grief and pain
Stored in a bag now I can find;
Yet the most marvellous moments
Stream from the young days of childhood,
The days of upright innocence
And not from the stage of manhood.
So sweet were the days of childhood,
When paternal care was replete,
When motherly hug was a treat,
When sisterly smiles were complete,
When the mind was free like the breeze,
Which blew from the south-eastern shore,
When watching shooing stars at ease
Was always a thrilling folklore.
So sweet were the days of childhood,
When with friends playing hide and seek
Was, indeed, a lovely pleasure,
When playing football on the street
Was surely a healthy leisure,
When in the yard playing marbles
With neighbours was a common game
And not to anyone a trouble.
So sweet were the days of childhood
When strolling up the nearby hills
Was a sane and joyful hobby,
When fetching grasses from the fields
Was a pleasant activity,
When tilling the backyard garden soil,
When picking up sticks for making fire
Was a useful and pleasing toil.
So sweet were the days of childhood
When just close in the neighbourhood,
Washing the parents` taxi car
Was a nice and pleasant duty,
When riding the bike close and far
Was a childhood preferred hobby,
When offering tailoring help
Was not deemed as being shoddy.
So sweet were the days of childhood
When walking a mile to school,
Whether in the rain or the sun,
Was for ever a common rule,
When climbing trees to pluck mangoes
Was a pleasant and joyful fun,
When bruising the knees on the street
Was quite a common occurrence.
So sweet ware the days of childhood
When early to rise in the morning
Was just a day-today routine,
When offering prayers to the Lord
With my loving father as well
Was a function I would afford,
When studying during the night.
Was to me a real delight.
So sweet were the days of childhood
When respect for the elderlies
Was just a common tradition,
When always speaking tenderly
Was a normal convention,
When listening to fairy tales,
Wittingly narrated by elders
Was a pastime I could not fail.
So sweet were the days of childhood
When chanting of spiritual hymns
Was the paroxysm of pleasure,
When teachings of moral rhymes
Were absorbed with zealous desires,
When leaning of the supreme truth,
Willingly dispensed by parents,
Was fully welcome during my youth.
Copyright ©
Krishnanand Guptar
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