Thursday, 15 March 2012


He is crying with little eyes
Filled with tears,
His mother is working
And chants songs
Form a little distance.

He is not in mood
To hear music or whispering
Of love rhymes
And cries all along,
Throwing little hands and feet
Over air, moving small body
On his single tiny bed,
And his crying fills the air,
With the urge to be with him,
And everything to be turned on his side.

His mom comes running,
With hands rubbing in towel,
So as to keep her water-soaked-hands dry,
And takes hastily the baby
In her lap full of love,
And gives him breast feeding,
And the baby sleeps down.

His mom does not let him down
On the little bed, and
Sits carefully as she is feeding the baby,
And looks deeply on innocent-baby-face
With love and care,
With violet mind to feel the morning,
And its identity, resting on his face, 
That mother-heart wants to fill her heart
With love, dripped drop by drop,
Like water filling the empty bowl
That is placed to be filled up with love,
And divinity with motherhood
That she wants to feel
On unbound waves of heavenly little fists
Scored with love and golden hours of creation of life.   


  1. What a delightfully penned post! Motherhood sure is divinty!
    I am at ~