The chariot of time witnessing the thorns and flowers has almost completed its course,

And certainly one cannot believe it to retrace, colossal might be the force!

But often there are mysteries that are tedious to unfold,

This results in a fable that sometimes remains untold.

It’s like the gradual appearance of the Moon at the end of day as the Sun begins to set,

And the illumination might turn out to be feeble; it’s the reflection we get!

The roots might have been underlying the entire time tree flourished,

Consequently the boughs will fetch beautiful flowers as nourished.

Sadly you weren’t much expected by many, happiest was I seeing you break the game

For those who presume a male child to be a lamp, you’re the flame!

Like the first ray of Sun you’ve come up to bring new dawn in many lives,

But time and again you’ll have to work for it, like bees in their hives.

I still remember that first glimpse of yours when I felt you in my arm,

Cheeks redder than the reddest rose, eyes greener than any farm!

The aura peace on your forehead and the tenderness of palms,

And the very first tone from you was as melodious as a psalm.

I’ve known my mother for a long time and her philosophies,

I’ve never seen her breaking, despite her agonies!

She might not be a river that flows, but surely not a pond that stagnates,

Her conscience is like that of a bee, though small yet tries to amalgamate.

As the courtesy is being passed on for generations from one to the other

The daughter of my mother’s daughter is interestingly the mother of my mother!

I’m getting old now and I can fairly tell,

It’s a privilege to see her reflection before I fell.

As the chariot of time will take me to a bend where I’ll freeze

All I could have would be the reflection of my Mother in my Niece…

My Mother… In my Niece…