Talking Cure
The sky was missing
The moon was missing
The young boy was sick
Down with nagging fever
Empty clouds hovered
As I sat close to him
Some dry leaves smiled
I took him into my arms
Fondly cradled the moment
Moved my hand gently over his body
Gazed at him smilingly
Cradled him in my arms
Tears pooled in the two glistening eyes
As the regression went on
Little flashes of green
Peeked from under the leaves
I had gathered a little history
Preceding the ailment
I kept caressing and chatting
For about half an hour
Green leaves grew, though few
And at the guava tree a robin too
The medicines continued
Next day I heard he was better
And in a few anxiety-free days
Was perfectly well
I must mention before I finish
The boy, when a child,
Since birth until he was three months
Had been in warm physical touch with me
Cradling associations are always a cradle
_________________________________________________________
July2, 2016
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