THE CRADLE

 

Often she would visit the attic; for there she held her little treasures

Prized memories of foregone days!!

Dwelling in an abyss of thoughts; in the solace of her own being,

she would travel back in time; into the mirage of her bountiful days.

Once again she sat there today caressing the cradle.

That lay there moth-balled and immaculate.

The white wooden cradle; with its own baby decor,

Held in it a piece of her life, her breath, her heart.

With a wide-eyed gaze and toothless smile,

The baby hand would touch her face as she sang sweet lullabies.

Alas before the blink of an eye, leaving her with an unsatiable motherly thirst

Those lil hands surpassed the cradle, to a beckoning world of dreams;

Leaving her to cradle "THE CRADLE", savoring the baby smell in thoughts.

Repudiating the unpalatable truth; 

The Cradle was never meant to be hers forever to keep!!