Tuesday, August 1, 2023

The boy with a fishing rod

On the tranquil banks of Dal, a boy sits all alone,
His fishing rod in hand, his heart a heavy stone.
The waters glisten, memories of happier days,
But now, he longs for parents' love, in a heartfelt craze.

The gentle ripples mock his pain, a whisper on the breeze,
As he casts his line with hope, searching for some ease.
He dreams of days gone by, when laughter filled the air,
With parents by his side, a bond beyond compare.

The fishing rod, a silent plea, a yearning to be near,
For parents' tender love, their voices in his ear.
He gazes at the horizon, where the sun begins to set,
Wishing they were by his side, to comfort and to pet.

Their absence like a void, a puzzle incomplete,
He misses their warm embrace, their laughter oh so sweet.
He casts his line into the lake, a metaphor of his desire,
To reel back the days of joy, with love that will not tire.

The memories come rushing in, like waves upon the shore,
Their love an anchor in his heart, forever to explore.
He holds onto their essence, their love a guiding light,
Through lonely nights and stormy days, he feels their presence bright.

The moon above, a gentle smile, that watches from afar,
As the boy keeps fishing on, beneath the twinkling stars.
He knows that love transcends, time, distance, and space,
And in his heart, his parents' love will forever find its place.

So, the boy keeps fishing on, on the banks of Dal,
With the fishing rod in hand, a love he'll never forsake.
Though he misses their laughter, their love forever lasts,
A bond that time can't sever, as it echoes in his past.
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