Scared he looked, alone he stood
Reflected his visage deep worries.
Furnished in the old man’s mind
Qualms, his years of experience.
“The reason what would be
For this little mind to fret?
His gait and garb; poor not,
but moneyed,” he thought.
but moneyed,” he thought.
"What pricks you, need solace,
A solace, comforting soul?”
Spurted swiftly his long-used tongue
Stepping friendly to the boy.
A bizarre look was his counter,
But, upon the old man’s wiles,
Responded wistfully a little after,
“Affluent if only I had been. ….
A destitute, an orphan having
No kin, a hapless boy, I am.
My life, an adopted product
Hurts me and wounds me.
They reared me, nurtured me and
Schooled me, fine, but …,” in tizzy he was.
“Real parents, cannot be foster ones ;
In search of my kin, I eloped.”
Captured things the learned mind,
Fully involved himself in the matter.
From the titbits of the boy's talk arose
The details of his parenthood.
“ Listen, son, may your parents be
of veritable, foster, or step type.
The amount of love they showered
counts more than what they are.
A boon it is, enjoying a gifted life;
Brought you here your wayward teen.
This ease and comfort of this sort, none
Would you have been blessed with!
So son, some gratitude you should have,
Go and gratify your parents’ yen,
They will fall in grief; reverse fleeing
And wash ashore your mind’s illness.”
“O, if not espoused, suffered much
I would have, no care and concern,
With nil essentials; prostrate
I must at my parents’ feet,” preferred he.
