"When the date of my wedding was fixed a lot of dreams occupied my days..needless to say they were day dreams..the ones who are married or the ones about to get married will realize these are the most beautious mmoments of ones life..and yet painful to realize leaving behind a sheltered childhood..written during that phase the following prose is dedicated to such a future and loving past "
One summer of my childhood, I often wondered, what was it that made the trees sing, the flowers dance and the breeze ring? What was it that made my grandmother’s wrinkled, callous hands so warm, so comforting! Why is it that my mother’s laugh is the sweetest song I ever heard or the tinkle of her bangles the beautiful rhyme to caress my heart? Why was it that the warm sunshine on the tree made the guava sweet or why was it that ripe mangoes were always a treat?
With years down the history lane, I walked another summer, where trees sang and flowers danced, my bangles tinkled and my mother’s warm wrinkled hands caressed the soft skin of my daughter’s back. The guava was sweet the mangoes ripe, the sun played in the sky.
I look down to the apple of my eye, the gurgle of laughter, the juicy smile. You are my life; you are my fragrance, the crown of my glory the shine of my smile. The earning of my life, the walking stick of my sunset – you my daughter shall be the shadow of mine.
In the light of the future I found the answers to the past, it was nothing but the love of a mother that made that world of a child so vast. The trees sang with her breath, she choreographed the flower’s dance. The ripe mangoes she picked for me, the guavas sweet she saved for me! The wrinkled hands found the nectar of her fruit the tinkling laughter was her amusement too. In the cocoon of her loving arms I grew from child into a woman, to spread my wings for a colorful fly.
With hopes of future, and memories of past, I sit in the present, under a warm summer sky.
Not a girl not yet a woman.
I look up to see her wave a call, her hands not wrinkled yet.
One summer of my childhood, I often wondered, what was it that made the trees sing, the flowers dance and the breeze ring? What was it that made my grandmother’s wrinkled, callous hands so warm, so comforting! Why is it that my mother’s laugh is the sweetest song I ever heard or the tinkle of her bangles the beautiful rhyme to caress my heart? Why was it that the warm sunshine on the tree made the guava sweet or why was it that ripe mangoes were always a treat?
With years down the history lane, I walked another summer, where trees sang and flowers danced, my bangles tinkled and my mother’s warm wrinkled hands caressed the soft skin of my daughter’s back. The guava was sweet the mangoes ripe, the sun played in the sky.
I look down to the apple of my eye, the gurgle of laughter, the juicy smile. You are my life; you are my fragrance, the crown of my glory the shine of my smile. The earning of my life, the walking stick of my sunset – you my daughter shall be the shadow of mine.
In the light of the future I found the answers to the past, it was nothing but the love of a mother that made that world of a child so vast. The trees sang with her breath, she choreographed the flower’s dance. The ripe mangoes she picked for me, the guavas sweet she saved for me! The wrinkled hands found the nectar of her fruit the tinkling laughter was her amusement too. In the cocoon of her loving arms I grew from child into a woman, to spread my wings for a colorful fly.
With hopes of future, and memories of past, I sit in the present, under a warm summer sky.
Not a girl not yet a woman.
I look up to see her wave a call, her hands not wrinkled yet.
