With the grease stained coverall
He came home from work
A little bit earlier he came over.
His three cute children
Welcomed him with warm kisses
they too stained theirs cheeks with oil and grease.
The red tiny bag they looked in for surprises.
As there are always some snacks waiting for them.
Savouring sip of hot tea from his beloved hand as usual
He sank on his armchair to take a nap.
Nothing went unusual except he looked extremely tired.
Hour later his wife tried to wake him up
He didn't responded to her any calls
She screamed in horror when she saw him lying breathless.
On hearing her screams children too surrounded him as well
They couldn't understand what was really going on
Very late they realized their dad is forever gone
They don't have any shoulders to hang on in their life
Since then no more surprises ever came in their life.
The red tiny bag hung on the wall
Once full of surprises
Future dreams of promises
Now breeze cradling it gently
Still the sobs of memories whispering silently!
© 2016 Geetha Jayakumar
All rights reserved!
A very meaningful and touching poem displaying a cruel punishment bestowed on the innocent children by their fate.
Another sad story, another touching poem, description of painful moments of the conjugal life.
When the bread winner of the family is gone, there arises a vacuum which no one else can fill. This hardworking man has been the pillar of his family, the strength and support of his wife and a loving father to his children! The empty bag which was once filled with small surprises is now a symbol of the emptiness that has crept over their orphaned lives... A very touching write!
A heart wrenching poem on the invisible hands of fate. The last stanza sums up the grim tragedy and the consequences that follows.
Life can end any time leaving kith and kin helpless. A point brought out with great force in the poem.
A poignant write that says a lot about life n its strange whims. The ways of life are often inexplicable. Very heart-touching write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Verily, things attached to incidental happenings remain as a memory forever