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.