GLANCE

Where is he, my father

Where to look,

How to Call.

He is no where here.

Where do you think he might be,

Not in his office but in the wood.

The sun is rising up.

I can feel his heart beat.

He is there in the wood,

Carry some goods.

What shall it be,

Might be some twings.

The sun is smiling,

He is struggling,

When will he reach here

I shall wait till

I close my eyes.

-Akshai .R