My daughter I watch quietly, As she neatly Folds the crisp Little square pink paper With her chubby fingers, Totally quiet and Absorbed in origami, I observe how With her folds, Art unfolds.
A lovely, light paperboat I behold- And memories unfold: Chilli-hot, fire-hot fritters, Monsoon music, Brolly-less, romping carefree, And my days of dancing in rain- Jolly though dripping wet, In the light and heavy Heavy and light drizzle My smile mingles with hers, Our smiles grow miles, As our hearts Feel more merrier, I open my childhood Gift-wrapped in hers.
Amita Sanghavi's blog 