From a Mother To Her Queen of Hearts-My Lovely Children
From A Mother To Her Queens Of Hearts
I didn't know the meaning of life,
For many many years.
The sun rose and the routine began,
Waking you, getting you ready, plaiting and ribboning,
Packing tiffins, and putting you in a waiting bus.
The hours that followed were even quicker,
Bedspreads neatly tucked in a very moderate home,
Clothes lines neatly displaying your tiny attires,
Vaporized and ready to be ironed for my three queens,
Tossing up your favourites, timing every chore,
With the slow hands of the clock.
Homework, tables, rhymes, we yy sat together and learnt.
As you started growing up the tug-off-wars began,
Sometimes we pulling you and sometimes you pulling us.
Little realising that god had already reserved places for you,
You were now mature and didn't need to follow us.
The ripening had started, and you were our new leaders,
You were aspiring, and now we had become your shadows.
How and when did the hands of the clock start running so fast,
That we didn't even realise our birds had flown out of the window,
We look at your wings, your feathery flights, your fledglings,
Your dreams, your joys, your fulfilments,
As the ripened fruit of our hearts.
February 22, 2016
Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2015
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