Reverence

Every night eleven, in midst of bold quiet.

When stars and at times moon are a blight

In the grey or black skies.

I stealth into the lonely corridor corner.

Vantage position, hold the aisle and the room inside

With dilating eyes staring through the vanta derides

Sound, a feather drop, too loud.

Vibrating phone wrings my stride.

My brother sleep-deprived 

His loving voice of toil and sweat

His eagerness and willingness to ask and tell

And I give out a very hushed yell.

Putting me in the medical school 

Himself resigning to fields and farms

Keeping the promise of our father's yarn

To see me a doctor one day.

With meager means, he chose fields to stay.

Not a whiff of pain or sadness stained

Fuelling my spirits every night to prove the day

When the plaque of wood and brass 

Outside our thatched mansion that 

Holds already a place with title dr. ordained.

Wipes and cleans the dust each day.

Make me worthy of his dreams and perspiration

Waiting to garland him one day with his aspiration.

Help me god to stand tall and live his expectations 

For one who is doctoring my life today.

My degree and title to him shall be bequeathed 

In his feet, I shall this all lay.