Insoluble Black Holding Pink

I saw it in Amma's hand,

In Appa's hand

And now in Anna's,

Every night I asked them, Why?

And they only smiled,

That Smile, to see it in my face,

That face which will smile,

Throughout, without the Black ink.

Yes, Black ink, which wasn't

A cloud, that would bring Rain.

Neither the Black Ink,

Which can turn Coal to the Diamond.

Every morning, I walked

With a Pink in my smile,

In my bag and

In my school, even during lunch hours.

Their lunch, was their Dinner

That dinner, they enjoyed

Thanking the almighty,

For sparing, little pink in their Palm.

Anna was a great companion

To the school, but he

Chose to be with Amma Appa,

To burn his Pink palms.

Those pink, caressed by love

Now greased with black,

Neither the terpenoids,

Nor the Water falls can wash-off.

Yes they all work,

in the Industry that makes

Roads for all, but for ours

And our thoughts.

And, today even I joined!

Still smiling, hoping some day

We will be paid for our work

And I and Anna would be, in School again.