It is seeping slowly,
inch by inch, bit by bit,
at its own pace,
into different shapes,
shapes of laughter and joy,
shapes of the life to be.
It's born in a mother's womb,
It melts a father's heart!
It's sweeping softly,
fading like the voice of an old man,
remembering 'Till death do us part',
the phrase still fresh,
but the man so frail,
inch by inch, bit by bit,
at its own pace,
into just one shape,
It's buried in an earthen mound,
Everything melts like none existed!
