“Dedicated to my Grandmother Mrs. P.N. Rengasamy”
Calm replies, Sweet laughs
Wisdom speeches
Enlightening her kin
With her strangest stories
Angel’s whispers
Humans listen
“How can Angels talk?” questioned my juvenile soul.
“Listen closely” she smiled.
Perplexed I was
Wandered half the world
And stopped one fine day
Expired time reminded me
To see the face of naive ness
Went to the old city
And there she was
Staring at the darkness
Immersed in the chore of silence
Sniffing the scent of her loved ones
In the thin air of emptiness
Gloomed in her inadvertent thoughts
I lay in her lap
Her trembling soft old hands
Felt my face
And saw her yielded love
Hid her sorrow
In those scrawny skin
Warmth in her heart
Patience in her veins
She counts her days
For her Eternal Rest
While I stared at her
To listen
The Angel’s whispers.
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