Born Again

Father has grown old.

Grey hair, like silver.

And on eyes are,

the gold-rimmed glasses.

Brooding, sitting in a corner

or perhaps drowsing,

with head tilted to one side.

Fingers moving lightly 

with each breath,

lips matching the rhythm.

My daughter runs to him

and his eyes light up.

A big smile lights up

the face as well.

In my daughter

I see myself,

sitting in his lap.

I feel born again

being blessed with,

a second lease of life.

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