Dear Child

The Monsoon doesn't speak of its arrival
to the crop, telling it that it's time.
It comes and works a change in the world,
in the air and the soil,
and the crop seeing the world,
grows and bears fruit.

I haven't told you I love you,
and I don't intend to.
But I would stay long enough
and do enough
so that your life,
would shift, curve, turn and mould itself,
into an unmistakable expression of my love.