I watched you, Mother, Step beyond your silver hair And aching knees, Leaving those seventy-five years Behind you. Suddenly, You were the little girl again, Pulling on a frilled frock, Quarreling with your younger brother Over a rag doll That belonged to neither of you, Or a basket of sour mangoes Neither was willing to Read more…

Parched was the sky scattered with puffs cottony the blazing heat ball piercing the horizon with raw agony yet the farmer plowed the land and toiled and bruised, drenched in sweat heavens up above gambled and strings of silvery clouds won the bet.   Unhurried and carefree, wandered the little child o’ what fun are Read more…