Fire shines bright beneath the summer skies,
Cries from the mother's womb resonate to the heavens high.
Lo behold,
A king is born.
Neither with gold,
Nor with thorns.
To lead a simple life, was his quest,
But alas, there was no rest.
Told him, his Mama,
Life is but once to be lived.
Live well my child,
It doesn't come again.
Sorry Maa,
And thank you - md.