Like the blissful songs of morning birds,
Like the joyful voices of singing cherubs,
Like the silvery droplets of the wooded cataracts,
And like the tinkling of silver bells,
Children’s laughter reached my ears and soul
And I welcomed it as parched earth during drought
Soaked in the first drizzle of the Monsoon rains,
Refreshing and rejuvenating,
My ailing heart with its plethora of aches,
Torn memories and fruitless dreams .
I woke to the plays of my grandchildren
And shook of my lethargy and doldrums
To face living another day.
Sorrow filled every crevice
To watch the face that shone with life-
A face that laughed and eyes that crinkled,
Spoke words that cut like rapiers
In sparkling wit
And showered love with abandon-
Now stilled in the grip of death!
Amid the flowers and religious scapula,
The body lay lifeless,
All energy drained and all wit rescinded,
The eyes, for ever, closed.
She did not open her eyes
To comment drily, insouciant as always,
At the show of grief, some real and others not so.
A lively brain is stilled for ever!
I, for one, cannot help
But shed the tears that flowed ceaselessly
At my loss and everyone else’s too.
It was my dear misery
To have lost all that love
And precious care
That I received,
Throughout my life!
His fingers strummed,
Aching to bring out
A soul searing melody,
And his eyes that saw
The flutter of dreams
Drooped and hovered
Over the strings and frets.
His heart raced
In time with the beat,
Ascending to crescendo,
While his legs simulated
To dash across
To the finish line
Where the heart begins
To slow down
Like the descending tempo.
The crescendo has subsided
And the race has ended.
And calm descended
Like the hushed moments
After the finale!
In some sedentary moments,
One hears high wailing
And is awoken
To hear the little mite’s
But when she twinkle-toes
Across a stage
In a luminous tutu
And translucent wings,
Tinker Bell herself
Will not match the magic
In her effervescent smile
And appealing grace.