You're asleep so calm Ma, and I sit by,
But inside of you, I know is a strife.
It's supper time almost, and I smell nostalgia,
Of all the food you've given me, all my life.
Way back from colostrum and it's antibodies,
Took utmost care to prepare my cerelac.
For my birthdays, you baked those amazing cakes,
And those yummy cookies, every day for a snack.
Come any festival, was always my favourite sweet,
Chicken soup it was, when I went down with viral.
All my exams, I survived with your midnight tea,
Dinner was a feast daily, with tangy mango pickle.
Making my career in Medicine was important,
And I had to focus, I always thought.
Hence the aid of stove, spoon and spices,
Not even for one single day,I sought.
Late now though, I realise it today,
For you, I should've sometime cooked.
Even though just a meal or two,
Happy then, you would've felt and looked.
Now please open your eyes Ma,
Respond to the drugs acting on you.
Help me cook a Gourmet for you Ma,
Just bid your Ryle's Tube adieu.
p.s.:This poem is fiction. Hope such a day never ever comes in anybody's life though.
p.s.:I'm back!! Four years on my blog, though I was absconding for the whole last year. :-p .
Yours,
Chandana C Shekar
But inside of you, I know is a strife.
It's supper time almost, and I smell nostalgia,
Of all the food you've given me, all my life.
Way back from colostrum and it's antibodies,
Took utmost care to prepare my cerelac.
For my birthdays, you baked those amazing cakes,
And those yummy cookies, every day for a snack.
Come any festival, was always my favourite sweet,
Chicken soup it was, when I went down with viral.
All my exams, I survived with your midnight tea,
Dinner was a feast daily, with tangy mango pickle.
Making my career in Medicine was important,
And I had to focus, I always thought.
Hence the aid of stove, spoon and spices,
Not even for one single day,I sought.
Late now though, I realise it today,
For you, I should've sometime cooked.
Even though just a meal or two,
Happy then, you would've felt and looked.
Now please open your eyes Ma,
Respond to the drugs acting on you.
Help me cook a Gourmet for you Ma,
Just bid your Ryle's Tube adieu.
p.s.:This poem is fiction. Hope such a day never ever comes in anybody's life though.
p.s.:I'm back!! Four years on my blog, though I was absconding for the whole last year. :-p .
Yours,
Chandana C Shekar