Can’t see it properly.
Maybe it is my Mother keeping an eye on me,
Hoping that I would make her proud someday.
Caring in the most selfless way.
I have to be the stone she can cling to in heavy rain.
Can’t hear it properly.
Maybe it is my Father calling out to me,
Hoping that I would not go astray,
Bend away from the good way.
Guiding me in the most selfless way.
I have to repay everything that I owe to him.
It’s soothing but muffled.
Can’t catch the notes precisely.
Maybe it is my Sister singing to me,
Hoping that I would get her songs someday.
Saying that I am loved in her music.
I have to sing to her someday.
Can’t find a base to it.
Maybe it is my other Sister writing for me,
Hoping that I would read between the lines someday.
Telling me to understand that things are not what they seem to be.
I have to write a poem for her someday.
Can’t comprehend what’s it like to be there.
Maybe it is my Grandfather talking to me,
Hoping that I would grow up to be a strong man someday.
Advising me to love a girl who would help me be better each day.
I have to bring him his hot tea someday.
Can’t comprehend it properly.