Poem Of Childhood !

When I was young, I use to wonder,
Why papa cared for ferns, for I ,
Thought, they weren't very tender!
Papa use to understand, from my eyes,
What's hidden there, what in them lies,
He use to lift me up and hold me tight,
Whisper, 'sweetheart, spring will be gone,
Strong winter shall just come in, and then,
My dearest one, my garden will have roses none,
My garden then shall have you, and these fern!!


~Manjuri~