Lift of faith

He called out,
to his best man.
Perched high n dry on
his fleeting self-made ride;
the Iron between
a man-made beach
and a concrete bond
- his big bro, the badminton pro.

He smiled, no fear here,
the gentle lift is near.
Certain is his road to bliss
where awaits his glass of milk,
breakfast and holiday songs.
Not the prodigal type,
he did follow the bigger steps,
till the higher stop.

Racquets thrown down,
the senior senor opens
his arms for the loving hug and
a gentle pull with all the might,
a sibling in labour.
Muscles stretched but
who minds? The loner did!
He stopped, smiled and... A trickle...

(It happened this morning at the park. Two kids are going home after their morning revelry at the enclosed playground within the joggers' pathway. The younger one climbs the three-feet Iron grill but finds it too huge a hurdle. Help is at hand though; his big bro, five inch or so taller than the cute one. But he is there; there for his brother...)