Poetry

sathyamala


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14 february 2012

My Home

I need some time-
time to weep
for my loving son's death.
Yesterday only
he was with me,
holding my hand in death bed.
Today he is no more
in the world
but he is in my heart.
When 13, he said "I never let you go"
but in 31, "I left him" and
for the past ten years
I'm in the old age Home
against the will of mine.
He was happy about that(?)!
Yesterday I talk to him
about My Home
He only shed tears and
nothing more.
I want to cry loud for his death but
I can"t
because it was not
My Home.






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