Amidst moonlight,
against this dark night,
step into your dream
and sail through.
Able to weave
a world of your own,
sit across the sea,
stroll along the shore.
Abound with liberty, this
abode of pleasures,
scent of the roses
spreading all over.
Awakened thus, by the sunshine
streaking against the morning mist
surfaces the real,making you
aware of the withered delight.

A day old,

I had held you in my arms.

First time ever, a baby so small,

had I cradled,

overcoming my initial fear. 

That night

in the hospital,

you denied us sleep

with your recurring cries,

worrying us to the core.

And now you are

a month old,

I brim with confidence

when I rest you in my arms.

You are the first for me,

whom I have played with

at such a tender age.

You are so small and fragile,

your clenched fist

loosen sometimes to hold our fingers,

and that small cute nose of yours and your thin lips,

that sometimes give a smile

make our hearts bright.

But the best for me is

when in fleeting moments

you change expressions

while still asleep,

you cry at one instance 

and suddenly you would smile

unmindful that you are being watched

by these affectionate eyes.