The last wish

In November's chill on Rana Mohal's lane, She showed me a shawl, dreams to attain, Her last wish lingered, a poignant refrain, But with 125 rupees, my hands feel restrained. COVID's cruel grasp in GMC Doda's embrace, Snatched her away, leaving an empty space, Two cherished shirts I sold with a heavy heart, To honor her wish, a fragile start. Wrapped in that shawl, morning's pale light, Clings to my half-dead soul's fading sight, I breathe, yet the question echoes, unkind, Why persist in this world, a heart confined? Her love lingers, a tranquil sleep's embrace, But my nights echo, devoid of solace or grace, No one to rouse, no gentle voice to say, "Kya kar ra ho?" in each lonely day. I exist in the shadows of memories past, Aching to make each moment last, Yet her absence weighs, a burden I bear, In a world devoid of her tender care. In this solitary existence, I strive to survive, Aching heart, wounded, yet somehow alive, But in every breath, in each moment's glow, I carry her wish, her love, her enduring glow.