Whenever thinking of mother
The taste and smell of the primal-milk
comes into memory.
And I shrink to be the lad inane
that slumbers within the warmth of
mother's bosom.
The tales mother told
while feeding the dreamy-eggs
rolled in milk,
And the Jagger -snack-bits she gives
at the sight of the daily lessons
on the dry-palm-scribe leaves
All that tender-cane beatings she gives
On tantrums and brawls with the elders
The moral lores mother admonishes
To make me grow "good -son of earth''
The affection Dad hid for me
And all that bygone childhood fortunes
come to my mind,when thinking of her.
Those past memories, in horse-speed-haste
Fulfills the circular run.
Perking the pains of today,
Later they make me stand naked before
the mirror- wall of The Present.
Still I remember my mother
And the lost-fore-ever childhood, yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment