A little girl asked
“Auntie, how do we make a home?”
Auntie answered
“Using clay, bricks and stone”
And she went to her chores
But I wondered.
Is it the clay, brick or stone
Which makes a home?
Or something more than stones
A man,
A woman,
Some children,
And some family,
Bound together
in the bonding of love.
It may not be of clay.
Leave alone gold and stray.
Leave away the iron mikes.
But must compose of love,
For love, which bonds together.
For love, powerful than iron mikes.
For love, which makes a straw,
worthier than glittering gold.
Makes a home sweet home.
© Tarun Mitra
January 31, 2006
