that parents (fathers, in particular, as a father myself)
will always love their children so much more
than the other way around.
Now my children are children, but they will grow up,
and discover my misdeeds -- sins or crimes, even! --
and may end up despising me, cursing me, till I die.
And perhaps wish me dead as soon as possible,
sooner than God or nature plans.
But how much should it matter? It's a given
that I'll try to win back their love and respect.
And if it would be in vain, though they may curse me
every second and every day till the day I die,
I'll still love them more and more till the day I die.
(That is, if ever love can be measured
via hourglasses and calendars.)
* * *
Check out My Personal Anthology (12 Poems).
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