Friday, June 10, 2005


At the twilight zone of my life
Lived enough, time is just passing by
I see a child lying-down on his mother’s lap
Listening to her crooning with affectionate tap
On his temple, while the dusty smell of raining outside
Sneaking into the nook and cranny of the room inside

The child tugging at her sari’s free end
To let him free to be danced and drenched
In the rain. The bout of nostalgia left me enervated
The child within wept uncontrollably for his mother, long dead

Today, I am father of a grown-up son
In the twilight zone, still searching in him my mother’s lost son

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