My Mother's Hand
A s I lay on my bed unable to move, The piercing pain shrieking out of my soul; All I could remember was the speeding car, Charging at me like an enraged bull. I froze and stood, suddenly darkness enshrouded me Squirming at the visual thoughts, I moaned in agony When a warm hand soothed my forehead; Responding to the warmth, I opened my eyes Holding me close was my mother, Caressing me with her feeble hands Instantly my thoughts traversed to the times, When those hands were strong yet soft; Those hands that fostered and shielded us; Those hands that disciplined us; Those hands that had the robustness, To cater to our needs galore; Those hands that did not take the time off, To feel the euphoria of life Today those very hands, my Mother’s hands Though feeble and bony, wrinkled and parched Was still there for me, ungrudging and unmindful When the rest of my world, busy in their chores; Forever by my side, were my mother’s hands Radiating the warmth, healing me back to life!!
