• abhisheksati 49w


    Her little son lying in bed , battling the life;
    She was holding her breath,praying him to revive
    But the virus had already taken him far away,
    Her loss was immense,very hard to repay.
    She was told that he can't be saved,
    The sky fell on her,as her prince breaved.
    Her desire to hug her love,a one last time
    But her maternal love,subdued by fate and regime.
    His body cold and numb,and his soul demean
    But no one came forward,as the threat was unseen.
    She wailed and cried,but it mattered to none,
    As world don't pray the dawning sun,but the rising one.
    While things falling apart,and world saying alas,
    She walked up,and picked him like a shattered glass.
    In another life,it would have been a normal day,
    And there she was putting flowers on a tiny grave.