Covid, Spare The Hate!

My dear son, I know you don't like this name at all.

Corona virus is sitting on every wall, small and tall.

I wanted you to play out there in the sun bright. 

Here, I am giving you the mobile which burn the minds alight.

No hate, no race nor even a country, this I made you learn.

The virus spreader country's name you take with vexation. 

Ten years boy is locked inside the closed doors around.

He screens himself playing on the basketball ground. 

But he gets sanitizers, mask and a screen with fake sounds.

A delicate screen full of scratches and forehead frowned!

Book worms! the study of corona you kept in the option.

The scoring topics way we studied, helping this generation? 

The same demon but on mobiles sees this poor father. 

O scholars, help us, you are the 'maharshis', rather. 

O the support staff, you switched off the play, scream and the run. 

Of course, mobile games invented, the targets with virtual guns. 

The 'stage', 'inventory' for the 'headshots', happy my son gets crowned.

He hates a country and with tears, I say...so fearful all it sounds!