So cute, she is the gem of our eyes;
We are blessed, our life is merry.
Experiencing new things, new things she tries;
She is so innocent; still believes in the tooth fairy.

She wanted to make art, she wanted to mould clay;
She wanted to sing, wanted to become a dancer.
A new dream rose with every new day;
The glass shattered when she got cancer.

She realises something’s wrong,
But she doesn’t cry.
I always play her favourite song;
New treatments and doctors I still try.

When her age was to play and jump,
And to fill in the balloons with air;
For breathing she required a pump,
Instead of riding a bicycle, she was in a wheelchair.

Tubes up her nose for breathing,
They are more like shackles.
‘Take the pain away’, her eyes always pleading;
So brave, every problem she always tackles.

Childhood which is colourful,
Hers is very pale.
It was so stressful,
I chugged litres of alcohol and ale.

We tried every treatment,
But there is no cure.
For my sins this is my punishment,
She was leaving us, it was sure.

Pointing at her shining bald head,
She says it’s like the moon;
She is a fighter lying in the bed,
I wished for a miraculous boon.

It’s so tough;
Watching your daughter die,
Your smooth life becomes rough,
You are the support; You can’t even cry.

I am alive, inside I am dead;
Feeling guilty as if I have done a crime.
With a smile my diminishing sunshine said,
“Good Night dad, it’s my Bedtime.”
-Shantanu Deshmukh

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