A Return Gift

Was there an orphan who was thrown,
Whose parents died when their car had blown,
Put was he in melancholy by uncle of his, transcendental,
The world saw him, transformed sentimental.

Avaricious he, begged on the street,
Til a gentleman came and gave slippers to his feet.
There was he sent, by that man, to an orphanage,
Where he was seduced to pursue his dreams.

Good was he, magnanimous were his teachers,
Scrupulous were they, about his great and bright future.
Ten years from then, came out he as an surgeon and a doctor,
Earning enough to inspire and do people foster.

Boom! Sounded a bomb attack, near his home,
When a lady got admitted of serious injury,
Stayed she for a month, treated, lost her infectious syndrome,
Thanked the doctor that started to weep.

Asked the lady, "Sir, why do you weep?"
Said the doctor, "I wanted your children to have you keep,
I lost mine when I was nine, and I didn't want that for your son."
The lady said, "The angels are guarding your soul that will never run.
God bless you oh son."

— Shantanu Shubham