Tirupathi Chandrupatla


She Could Jump


Early morning
I see this lady, old
Picking flowers
Flowers she can't reach
She looks left, then right
She jumps
She gets it
A fresh flower
Adds to her basket
Happily back
She offers
The flowers
To her God
The lady
Old lady
The lady I loved
Lives in my memory
My mother.

Submitted: Sunday, February 02, 2014
Edited: Sunday, March 09, 2014

Topic of this poem: mother


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