Endless Love (Since 1977)

PSG, thy name,

The cherishing pride,

Of the parents.

 

You were,

One of the eight then,

Now, there are 500 plus,

But, no one to match thy.

 

We came to you,

Like a baby in the cradle,

You sang the lullabies,

To awaken us.

 

You embraced us,

And taught the art,

To enlighten the soul,

And to remove the confusions.

 

You taught us,

All that matters,

To make us to stand tall,

Amongst the learned.

 

You too are like a mom,

Did all that a mother does,

Stood like a ladder,

To lift us to the sky.

 

If its deity, then

You are the one,

Chiseled us to be a statue,

Like a skilled sculptor.

 

All those came to you,

Won and gone – Still,

There are thousands,

In the queue to come.

 

Despite many new

Colleges came in,

No equal to thy,

You stand tall.

  

They say,

You are seventy – Still,

The youth and resilience,

Stand with thy.

 

I am now sixty plus,

Still, the love to you,

Remains to the heart,

 

Time has gone far,

Still the love bubbles,

If you can show some mercy,

I will pen many poems.

 

I know,

There is no chance,

That is not nature too,

Still, the longing remains.

 

The option to me is

To take another birth,

And come to you,

To rest on your lap.

 

Praying for your grace,

Will stand on one leg,

If you refuse,

My world will be gloomy.

 

I have one more appeal,

And seek your grace,

To have the same friends,

       Again and again.