papa! We miss you.

The sun is an orange fireball
Castaway in the distant horizon.
"Sun" I point
To my son saddled on my shoulder.

"Papa?" He replies.

Eyes downcast, I walk
Fresh gravels grovel long under my feet.
"Stones" I pick it up
To my son saddled on my shoulder.

"Papa?" He asks again.

Tall arecanut trees stands
Stretching out their head to the sky.
"Doma" I show
To my son saddled on my shoulder.

"Papa?" He utters sadly.

Twittering birds hover in the sky
Dark specks flying back home.
"Birds" I yell out
To my son saddled on my shoulder.

"Papa?" He snivels.

A twitch in my heart
I yearn for his presence.
"Come" I bring him on my lap
My son who was saddled on my shoulder.

We sit, facing the Orange ball
Counting the small pebbles
Looking through the arecanut trees
With the birds flying back home.

"Papa!"we both utter together
Missing him the same.

(Written while vacationing in gelephu with my kids, while their papa toiled hard in the cold harsh winter of Thimphu. Our son Ninda loves him a lot!)