I never new the taste of death...
Till it knocked at my door
Till my mother was called by the Sender himself...
He chose such a far off place to snatch my m..o..t..h..e..r
We can never hold those hands...
we can never provoke her...
we can never tease her...
Leaving us alone ...
she left us, as she wished without any suffering...
no bedridden life, no carelessness, No neglect by near and dear..
Without giving a chance to her Dear ones
to see her last moments and her self
she left just like that...
In her sound sleep..
With out any pain..
Every body tells she is lucky..
May be she is...
I am a simple man, am not able to think that spiritually..
Because SHE is my M..O..T..H..E...R...
Time may heal my wound in the depth of my heart..
Oh God , She is in your hands...
Nothing more to pen...
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