Mamta Agarwal

Rookie - 0 Points (March 27,1951 / India)

Memories - Poem by Mamta Agarwal

My childhood flashes across my mind,
How everyone at home was so kind.
Whenever I would fall sick
And vacantly stare at the window sill.

My father would quietly sit on my bed,
And put his warm hand on my forehead,
And softly ask me how I was
And kindly reassure me this too shall pass.

But now he is no more.
He is never going to walk through that door.
That’s life, we have to go on,
And let go and not forever mourn.

Oh yes they will forever live in my heart
As if never ever had to part.


Comments about Memories by Mamta Agarwal

  • Ashraful Musaddeq (8/26/2008 10:59:00 PM)


    'My father would quietly sit on my bed,
    And put his warm hand on my forehead, ' very touchy, very famaliar memory.
    (Report) Reply

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  • (4/13/2008 12:48:00 PM)


    Its really something which we all feel and mourn.But this is life.It does not stop for anyone.It just continues with its natural speed and we have to get accustomed to its changing nature.A very good poem full of those soft memories which have bcome part of our life. (Report) Reply

  • (4/13/2008 11:53:00 AM)


    wow I almost cried. This was really good. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, April 13, 2008

Poem Edited: Monday, July 14, 2008


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