Last night, your faded memory came to me, As in the wilderness, spring comes quietly, As slowly in desert, moves the breeze, As to a sick man, without cause, comes peace! The moon of my night, an oasis for my deserted soul and a heavenly shelter from cold buffets of life, was my mother. It was a scenic day glittering with the serene sunshine in the blue sky. That day, she had completely recovered from the demon of hepatitis. The vivacity of life was sparkling in her eyes. The omen of life had totally exalted her to a novel perseverance. She had grabbed the silky life with her caressing hands. The life to her meant her children. The moon of Ramadan was surely an omen of joy for us. We had scheduled our sister's wedding. In that reference, my father and mother were to leave for another city. I bade them farewell under God's heaven and saw them off. "Life is going to be beautiful," I smiled to myself and went to the bed. Suddenly at midnight, violent knocking at ...
Comments
Post a Comment