The Flower Of My Memory Vase
“Life sailing in the river of affection, emanating from
the fountain of mother’s love, gets anchored in the
bay of memory” – Quote by Poet
My mind goes back down the memory lane
to the times when life for us was really trying,
for under the scorching sun of insecurity
in an alien land where we drifted,
and in the spewing squall of uncertainty,
she toiled for years and built for us a home.
In her weary hands she sculptured my life,
and made me what I am today.
Soon a time came when my job forced me
to leave her to be all alone,
for she won’t leave the home she toiled to make
and loved more than anything else,
but promised she’d one day come to live with me.
That day never came, for she left her old home,
and went away to her new heavenly abode.
In the deluge of the surging river of sorrow
in the broken heart, crushed by the pain of losing her,
I feel my senses sink in despondent depth within
with my life once ebullient in her presence.
From the eroded banks of my desolate existence,
I perceive my time with her disappear to nowhere.
In the surge of the devastating flood of grief,
I breathe the reminiscence air in sorrowful seclusion.
I hear the whisper of the breeze wafting her essence,
that passes me by with the tune of the swan song,
resonating with the ethereal rhythm of love
and with the melody of longing, she made for me.
I lift the lid of the concealed cauldron of memory,
see vividly her kaleidoscopic floral images,
blooming in the garden she nurtured, not yet lost,
I preserve in my memory vase, the flower, my mother.
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