625. Will A Mother Ever Demand? 200812 - Poem by Raman Savithiri

If I strike a match stick to lit the lamp
It instantly burns though at times it is damp.
If I pluck few flowers from my terrace garden
They fill aroma though they bow like a maiden.

If I bring few fruits, for puja, in a silver plate
They are ready with syrupiness to satisfy palate.
If I place a glass of water on the pulpit
It remains ever cool ready for Emeto's effect.

The fragrance sticks let out pleasant smoke.
As it is said You like five hospitable means,
Daily I arrange all these; but You don't wake
For my pitiable yells and to my childish tears.

And they say You demand one more precise item,
Above all these five adorable things.
That is my one pointed mind to hold Your form!
Tell me Devi where from will I get it? 200812