Subhobrato Mukherjee
In the twilight hours, between dusk and dawn,
A tale unfolds, a bond that's been drawn.
A son and his dad, a bittersweet embrace,
A dance of love and strength, time cannot erase.
From tender years, when first he learned to stand,
His father's hand, a guiding, steady hand.
Through stumbles, falls, and youthful tears,
A father's love, a beacon that endears.
The lessons shared, both gentle and tough,
Shaping a son, moulding him enough.
In laughter's echo and shared embrace,
A father's love, a cherished space.
Yet, time moves on, and seasons change,
The son grows up, his world rearranged.
With eyes that gleam, he seeks to roam,
Yet deep within, he longs for home.
A father's pride, a silent tear,
As he watches his son face the world's fierce leer.
A mixture of joy and a hint of sorrow,
Knowing that time brings tomorrow.
With distance now, they stand apart,
The son's restless spirit, a fire in his heart.
And yet, a father's love remains,
A steady force that ever sustains.
Through laughter shared and stories told,
In memories etched, in hearts' stronghold.
The bittersweet dance of father and son,
A tapestry woven, forever spun.
For as the years go rolling by,
The son returns, with a softened eye.
To see the man his father's become,
A journey shared, a kinship won.
In twilight hours, as day descends,
A father and son, their love transcends.
Through joys and trials, they've found their way,
A bittersweet bond that's here to stay.
Subhobrato Mukherjee
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