There is, there is a man in Dubai,

whom I trust with doubts none.

There is, this man, now beyond boundaries,

to whom, I spat words, concealed never.

This man, with such differences, such counterfeits;

Yet, in him I see, the father of my home caring,

Could I ever deny the warmth of a family,

when he calls me, “momo”!

At times, I remember looking to him,

like a lost ship in its voyage half.

I look to you, Dadzo for assurance, the Northern Star of my sky,

Grateful am I, to be called your daughter,

And may we stay forever, as

a family celebrating the imperfect perfectionism.

                                                                             – JGeorge

                                                                              Chennai, India