What a white, beautiful moon,
The blue heavens' nightly bloom,
Big, bright, round and full,
That pours light soft and cool!
That, every month, one night,
Mama sits on the roof quiet,
Eyeing the moon with great zest,
As it moves from east to west.
Dread her not ghostly lulls
And eerie affairs of nocturnals;
Sitting moveless like Newtown,
Mama observes some unknown.
Behind her, at a distance,
Two figures, on vigilance,
Sit whole night sleepless and mum -
No other than her papa and mom.
They yield to their daughter's craze
And safeguard the infant sage,
That, if on some fullmoon night,
She might scale the lunar height!!
- N P SAMAL
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