• njaavootty 5w

    Every season is a memory.
    I cried in one.
    Hurled with another.
    Picture another
    And rained on another.

    They all were special,
    So is my exit.
    They were so rigid,
    So does my mood...

    Swapna happens for a reason,
    Said my maternal grandma.
    She was 99, yet not out.

    Her days were counted,
    By the white colours, she refused.
    I gave her shelter and love.
    With food and vine by her side
    She continued her life, till Ill.

    Could I rain to a winter,
    with the feathery touches of
    pain and snow, I asked.

    She was already in pain with
    Her body shivering in noon snow.

    Yet she cried to get wet on rain,
    One another time,

    Memories never ends.
    They just need a touch to relive.

    Seasons cried and moarned
    With a mind awaiting the next.