I look at her once and can’t withdraw my eyes,
From beholding her yet again.
The smile with which she’d display her affection,
Revives before my eyes within seconds of ten.
Her embrace resurrects so vividly before me,
The warmth of her arms,
That would so lovingly hug me in glee.
I look at her and smile away in profound bliss,
Recollecting the memories,
When my forehead had been blessed with her kiss.
And the words of care,
That would proceed out of her mouth.
When next will I be privileged to receive that,
I doubt . . .
I look at her, at her picture – that’s all I have with me now.
I see it and remember the times,
Wherein desires for my happiness had bowed.
I miss all of her gestures which now to my heart brings,
An unspoken sorrow of detachment,
From you my mother, which now I hopelessly drink.
(P.S. Written when I was away from home and missed my mother badly.)