Grandmother And I

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Ending of summer,

When the moon shines in the river.

Wind is lighter than itself,

Jasmine reside on the aisle.

We talk about stories,

that we lived for long.

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At the site of midnight

train arrives like a habit.

Just as we complained,

Summer ends.

Grandmother and I, talked.

© S.Anand

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Who Were They !

They came in life when you needed someone.

They welcomed you, unexpectedly.

You were vulnerable and weak.

You were naive and innocent.

They nurtured you, selflessly.

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They haven’t asked anything, after all these years.

You don’t invite them on birthdays,

neither recall them occasionally.

They are not in contact with you, regularly.

Still once in the blue moon, you remember them.

They were like miracles ; you never realized.

Until you looked back, into the past.

When you were lost, in the forest ;

(While you thought, you were walking the path)

They crossed your path, to hold your hand.

They were not your friends nor foes.

They were not your kin nor partners.

They came for a moment, that saved you.

Who were they ? tender souls !

© S.Anand