Midday it was when by the kitchen stove, Your senseless body lay upon the floor. "Her water broke!", Pa cried, took you and drove, I gaped bewildered, I was only four. At first, I dratted Pa- 'Why didn't he take Me too for Ma would say in every strife, A simple smile of me would soothe her ache As I was God's own angel in her life?' I told myself what any child would say A childly consolation, "all is fine" For she had said, "Today's a special day. I'm cooking saag."– the favoured dish of mine; A knock at door- Pa stood, but where was she? Went with the Lord, a brother left for me. Shamik Banerjee is a poet and poetry reviewer from the North-Eastern belt of India. He loves taking long strolls and spending time with his family. His deep affection with Solitude and Poetry provides him happiness. Comments are closed.
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