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Growing taller than Him #NaPoWriMo #Day1

Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Since its my first National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo), so chosing what would be the most probable theme to my first post was quite a task. It could have been the atrocious universe, global peace or even the girl next door. When of a sudden, something struck my mind. There is this one guy who deserves all the love and respect of the world, so maybe I should dedicate something to him.

My dad has been quite an inspiration to me ever since my childhood. From riding my first bicycle to four-wheeling. But I'm not sure if I ever did anything to make him proud of me or somehing that could atleast bring a smile to his face. This is the right time I guess.


As I looked at the crossing across our paddock
With a luster of arrogance through my grimace
For being undefeated working an illegal double dribble
Like the creator of this world I was
The handball being dearer than what gripped my right hand
A rough hold, firm, but gentle all at the same time
And you said my eyes looked appealing
And that I could now draw in more girls at the houseparty
For tall guys aren’t really left anonymous – anyhow

The house turned a villa with an extra floor over it
And the house got updated
The windowpanes, sidewalls and even the acrylic
The Red Maple in our backyard that grew taller
And the sun doesn’t sting our dooryard anymore
I want the same calmness in my eyes when I grow old
For yours were always calm and heady
And then, yours would be more prudent
Like the portrait of a wiser
But every time I watch you fix the light bulbs
While I keep standing alongside, supporting the footstool
Or when you beat me out at court games
I wished one day I grew taller than you dad

Labrador climbing over to grab attention that now falls stolen
And lo, the other grip would be treasured evermore
The one that grew delicate and lesser firm over the years
The face described by a hundred cracks that smiled
But I would still need your support as always
Every time I stumble by my absurdity
Every time I make a progress towards another fall
Because taller the shoots, earlier is the bend
And I would ask to be an inch shorter than you
And support the stool while you try to fix the light bulb
And be your kid always.