Arid Land-a poem by an old man

Arid     Land

P.R.Ramachander

My mind was a lush green field. 
Waving and chirping to the world,
“I am happy and happy,
Because of my kids,
Who are the nectar and ambrosia,
For all my time to come.”

But one day, the little birds flew,
Out of the nest of my house,
For destinations unknown.

My mind became an arid land,
With hot air blowing from all sides.
It used to pray to God often times,
Please oh please,
Send a soothing rain once,
For this arid land is thirsty of love.

Wetness did come to this arid land,
From the tears that my eyes shed,
And those loving twitters,
That those little birds,
Send through the mail and the wire.

But the arid land continued to burn,
And make this little wetness,
In to vapour soon.

Then came an angel,
With a captivating smile,
With a cooing sweet little sounds,
“I am thine ,granpa,”
She sang and sang,
And made my cheeks,
Wet with her lovely kisses divine.
“I am thine but not thine,
And I am the rain maker of love.”
She cooed with her magical smile,

“This arid land will never be dry,
For my thoughts, in your mind,
Would make it wet.
With pouring tears.,”
She sang in lisps,
“From your joyful eyes,
Out of love and care,
That you had oft,
Shed on your parched land,
While holding me to your lap.”
Sang my little angel divine.

Yes, little dear, I nodded my weary head,
The tons of happiness, that you had brought,
In this little while, in this arid land,
Will make it wet, for all time to come.
This was a poem I wrote , when I had my first grand daughter,