REMINISCENES
OF HER PAST
In the
twilight of her life, she is sitting,
The
recollection of her past is knitting;
When she
carried the children with joy,
Gazing them
playing with toy.
She adopt
their lives as own,
Done the
thousand works unknown;
She smiled
in their hues,
And cried
with them in blues.
She is the
only woman ,
Who can’t be
find again;
Full of love
and affection,
Bearing the
divine perfection.
This angel
we know as mother,
But alas!
Now her wings are shatter;
Lonely she
is sitting,
Reminiscences
of her past is spinning.
Everybody is
busy,
As the life
is so fussy;
Nobody come
to lighten her home,
It has
become the deserted dome.
Forlorn she
prepared the honeyed cake,
For children
she used to bake;
No one comes
to take its fragrance,
She has lost
in utter ignorance.
Father gone
to his eternal voyage,
Leaving her
deprived of lovage;
John and
Mary departed to alien land,
There is no
soft touch of personal hand.
Throughout
the day she longs for night,
At night she
counts the stars bright;
Desolated
she is passing her life,
Taking her
last breath in strife.
Singing the
song of her age,
Gathering
the yellow leaves of that phase;
She passed
away in sheer darkness,
Weaving the
dreams of her pastness.
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