My child, i am your mother tonight.

She woke up, in the middle of the night,
Father, she said, i miss my mother tonight.
I kept the book aside, her eyes following my hands,
Everything stood still, save the clocks hands.

I took her in my arms, her body light as a feather,
She hugged me with tiny arms, her hair smelled like her mothers.
We went to the window, where the breeze was at its best,
My hands hugged her tight, her head on my shoulder lay at rest.

My child, look at the stars,
They shimmer, like your mothers smiles.
Those clouds, way beyond your reach,
They are soft, like your mothers heart.
She was a fine woman, when she breathed.
Now in a fine company, her soul so blessed.

Your life, was her goal,
She lives, in your soul.
My child, you can sleep tight,
For there she is, like the sleepless night,
To guard you, like an angel that she is,
To care for you, when you close your eyes.

So my child, close your eyes.
Let her look at you, with open eyes.
Let her love you, with her sighs,
While you are fast asleep, in her eyes.

You where born into my arms,
Like she died in my arms.
When my world left with her,
She left you, the world of her.

Let me tell you a secret to keep,
Your father too is scared of night.
But I know she is up there when i sleep,
Looking after us, through day into the night.

So my child, close your eyes.
Let her look after us with open eyes.
Tonight my child, you can sleep with no fear,
I am your mother and your father, here.

She breathed in rhythm, her breath so light,
I looked at the star, the one which shined bright.
I wanted to believe what i said to my child,
But tonight she was in me, the mother to my child.

I am not a poet, not at all. But i like rhyming sentences and this is a story written such. There is a twist to this story which i didn’t post earlier, thought it will be too much for the reader. But on second thoughts, i am writing it here.

I laid her down on the bed, her eyes closed, deep in sleep.
Her tiny hands clinging on to my shirt, with a weak grip.

She was like this when i saw her first, then barely a month old.
I was there for a boy, one who will shoulder my head when i am old.
Then she chose me instead, to rest her head on mine, and grow old.

I dread the day when i tell her the truth, and beg her to forgive,
In fear of that day i live, the day when i have nothing more to give.

Posted from WordPress for Windows Phone

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