Prakash F Madhwani | 03 Dec 2009
This poem is dedicated to the mothers, who go crazy when they hear about their son returning from abroad. It is inspired by my cousin Lata for her son Amit, who returned from Australia, with the family after a very long gap
I RETRIEVE and darn your moth smitten
Tattered booties and mittens;
I knitted them for you – my baby
Before we heard your first cry.
Wow! How time has flown,
Soon, you flew out to a world unknown,
Your spouse, your tots, I barely know,
Attached or distanced, like a tree and its bough.
I look up at the smiling half moon,
I smile and recall – as a tiny tot
Your love for the glowing full moon,
Wanting it to play, Oh! How you fought.
Oh! It’s been years and years,
Since I saw you, your wife, your tiny tots,
The best tiding of your visit home – in full lot,
Drowns the sorrowful tears, with joyous tears.
I smile back at the smiling half moon too,
As I await your short break – coming home,
Stare at the endless list of things to do,
Pace the home, where to begin from.
Booties and mittens is what I had for you,
And that’s where I begin this time too,
Mother’s recipe, savouries of your choice,
Oh dear! I yearn to hear your little ones voice.
How long your stay would be, I see not,
But, every moment of it I shall cherish,
That I’ve promised myself and the whole lot,
For, soon, in a mundane rut, how we perish.