Life without beloveds is a lost game;
You know, facts for us are almost the same.
They make our life easy as well as hard
For them we live, work and play our trump card.
They direct our path and determine goal,
They turn us into gold or burn to coal.
They become our breath and dissolve in blood,
Their loss makes us shed tears in a flood.
They are closer to us than dear souls
More than our conscious, they command our roles.
We can't think of living without senses;
They protect and preserve us like fences.
They fill marrow in our weak bones to work
And kindle lamps in the path lost in murk.
Our first beloveds are our good parents
Who are the best of all Nature's presents.
Our brothers and sisters are second ones
They are our best life-long companions.
Our spouse and children are the next dears
Who encourage us to face all fears.