© Shilpa Sandesh, Oh Brother I say, My pen would one day, Would splatter its ink, On paper, Into beauteous words, A poem on you! My dear little sister, he says, I am not among those thieves that you can know and write, I am among those cats, That you ought to envision, and scrawl; Imaginations run, And I envisage, My brother you are, My teacher, My preacher, My guardian angel, The bearer of courage, My comfort, my solace, A support that liberates me, From every stumble; You are humble, You are meek, Your heart is gentle, Encrusted in, A tougher shield; Oh little one he says, You reduce me to puddles, I wish rains change, to a downpour, So you do not see my tears, Breaking banks like the Ganges! My dearest brother, those tears are precious, Priceless as pearls, Let them not break The perimeters, Or I would get shattered, I would be washed away; You have been through enough, You have observed a lot, It's time to rest, It's time ...