THE CALL OF CHILDHOOD

The redolence of wet soil seeps into the air,
As the cacophony of children drenches it more than the rain.
The puddle gushes with pride as its womb carries the paper-boats,
That shrieking kids with muddy hands and teethy grins set afloat.

The park is their haven, their incubator, their arena,
The bonhomie reverberates in the vicinity deluging all melancholy.
The honking school bus delivers a gang of little bags of mischief,
As mothers make milk-shakes, they fling their school bags with glee.

Children, they are the salt of the world, the soul of humanity,
Childhood is the panacea for the anathema called a life-span.
Nostalgia is all i can feel as i grope in vain for the days gone by,
The creases on my brow bear testimony of the vicissitudes of adult-hood.

But as we traverse into the vestibule, there are still children wallowing,
Let us take a pledge to give them their due and save them from the nemesis.
The tears of orphans, the stretched hands of child labourers are agonizing,
Let us bury our antagonisms and fight the demon of molestation and abuse.