She stood looking right there,
With water bottle and tiffin in her hand.
Only nobody was going school here
It was her little man, starting rendezvous with another land.
It seemed just of yesterday,
When her little boys in her lap would play,
When she would sit up all night,
To see them sleeping and shoo away all that might give them a fright.
‘Was it not yesterday they were babies’, she thinks,
Their growth seems a miracle, a tear from eyes she blinks.
Of those little pink, tightly clenched fists,
Of those very first watches for those tiny wrists.
Of those incessant babbles,
Of those forced baths that would end in dabbles
Of their craving for her smell,
Of the first words they spell.
Of their smile when they would see her come,
Of the ecstasy when she was first called ‘Mum’.
She looks back to see
All those years spent in glee
Of their first races won
Of all homework in her presence done
Of their first public fall
Of the first ladies they asked out for ball!
When her elder son went out,
She had somehow managed to suppress all doubt.
And now when the younger too goes,
To map out a life, similar yet different from his bro’s,
A part of her in mirth flies
A part of her from dearth cries.
It does her proud,
To see her gentlemen stand apart from the crowd.
She knows they’ll always have what they need.
What vexes her is that they’ll miss her touch when their tiny wounds bleed.
She knows they are strong,
And with friends laugh all along,
But it worries her to know that when the day’s been long,
And sleep eludes, there’ll be no one to sing them a song.
She knows they’ll love independence and relish restaurant food,
But worries what they’ll eat when going out isn’t their mood.
Smiling wide she waves to her son,
While secretly wishing he would into her arms run.
She turns and looks at where all their memories rest.
She turns and looks at her now empty nest.
Pic from Net.