We’re sorry!
We have no manners!
But ...
We’re your children and you’re our Mom!

Send us food on golden platters.
Give us love
amidst life’s storms.

If our faith is
less-than-perfect,
do not notice;
We are yours!

Errant children,
dressed in tatters,
Tuka says,
You can’t ignore.

More poems by Sant Tukaram