Know your face well
And every wrinkle in it
I can recall the days when it appeared first.
With regret I remember my sir
I am the cause of it more often than I would love to be
But then I’m a helpless man
Having few choices
Being your respected jailer here.
I don’t quarrel with your past
Nor do I know
What your future would be.
A jailer need not know
The future and the past.
Jailor only knows
When he entered the Jail
And dreams the date
When he need not come
Judas distinguished
Anymore.

You had been kind to me
Making My Life
Even more difficult
Reminding me
The rules that could be
Perfected not with any regrets.
My sons, their sons too
Have grown with
Specs of love
Scattered on the way.
One day dear sir,
You will be granted
Your freedom,
And so would I
Get my own,
Without a cause to lose it
Death slow
Before I retrieve it!

                                 – Kumaran Moosad