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this morning
i bathed her,
i dressed her
then i fed her…
with a smile on her lips
the warm glow of her love
fresh on my being
i saw her off…
at the turn of the street
she turned back,
for the routine waving…
she is my very own
and very special too…
where is she now?
how do i fail to identify…
the lips which kissed me
a little while ago…?
the hands which swung
around my neck?
the eyes which promised
to show me the world i did not see?
the bone of my bones,
the flesh of my flesh…
won’t you tell your innocent mother
which is you…?
(it’s difficult to put this under a title. if some one may…)
17July2004 after reading about the fire accident in a crammed school that reduced several school children in tamilnadu, india to ashes…
indira babbellapati
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