The sky opened up, the clouds parted,
the first drops of drizzle it departed.
The leaves stood still, the lake calm, in mourn
had it still if it knew about,
the cloud’s tears, the upcoming storm.
The trees sigh in relief,
‘pittar-patter’ it speaks, its language so sweet.
Stems so joyous, the otherwise dusty leaves,
the saddening flora, so green!
The birds chirping, on that old oak,
the flowers blooming, so peaceful, serene.
It stops!
Wafting in the air, sweetness drifts,
so sweet, it enchants and entangles,
healing all wounds indeed.
In this blessed realm,
I thought of her, suddenly,
The old woman, that kindest soul, agree
Who smiles and showers,
her sweet kisses on me.
The rays of sunshine parts aside,
the greyer clouds where that loudest thunder resides.
I came out of that canopy, from under
Vigilant that tree, which stood tall,
sheltered, protected and hugged me.
I ran quickly, and it was no stride,
To my home where, that wisest angel,
my mother, waited for me, aside.
I care not, wish not,
afar, any other dreamland or a shrine,
for there is someone who, through time,
cared for me, cherished,
and loved me her entire lifetime.
Literary Expeditions 