Thursday, February 16, 2023

Of Spring and Hope

 (Wote this poem many years ago, and I have kept editing it since. )


Wheelchair tucked into the table
she can hardly breathe, and yet
he tries to feed her smaller morsels

God knows how many jobs
she had worked
to feed him

Her head wobbles every so often
and the tissues keep falling off

He slowly tucks them back

She can hardly eat
all she wants is to spend some time
with her boy
before it all comes
crumbling down

He holds a glass of water.
she sips a drop or two
and shakes her head
the effort
takes a toll on her weary life

The day is dying bit by bit and
the sky is probably crimson red outside

Spring is slowly making its way,
they say it brings hope and life for the 
new and the old

Days dissolve into dusk
nights roll into dawns;
the coherence
simple and easy, caring
like doting mothers
and loving sons

The tissues keep falling off, 
and God knows why but
I got tears in my eyes
 
--
Anant Dhavale
Copyright © Anant Dhavale

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