Looking back, the higher road is difficult only when you start
What joy it is, looking back with a content heart
I serve the solace of my soul that evaded me so
Feeling the ocean kiss my feet as I am lost in thought
Those who seemed sensitive and devoid of patience
Now it is they who kindle my tolerance
I wince at a remark here and there
But what follows is a smile at my own folly
The little ones are impatient too, and obstinate in their wishes
I have learnt patience from this buoyant lot
Not easy, dealing with the whims of children
For they cast a spell with their charming looks
And the greying folk too demand a calm mind
They ask for a thing and then they ask again
The hand reaches for the forehead in a moment of despair
It is stilled by a deliberate spasm of the knowing heart
Oh the joy of looking back and smiling
Enjoying a jest at one's own account
So sweet is the taste of this unfolding of our senses
That is bred during the journey from cradle to grey
What joy it is, looking back with a content heart
I serve the solace of my soul that evaded me so
Feeling the ocean kiss my feet as I am lost in thought
Those who seemed sensitive and devoid of patience
Now it is they who kindle my tolerance
I wince at a remark here and there
But what follows is a smile at my own folly
The little ones are impatient too, and obstinate in their wishes
I have learnt patience from this buoyant lot
Not easy, dealing with the whims of children
For they cast a spell with their charming looks
And the greying folk too demand a calm mind
They ask for a thing and then they ask again
The hand reaches for the forehead in a moment of despair
It is stilled by a deliberate spasm of the knowing heart
Oh the joy of looking back and smiling
Enjoying a jest at one's own account
So sweet is the taste of this unfolding of our senses
That is bred during the journey from cradle to grey
