I close my eyes every evening for prayer
Your face comes to my mind
especially when I say the prayers for dear departed
I never miss to tell God about you.
The pain is still fresh, the wounds are raw
and I miss you ever more each passing day
The lump in my throat, when I think of you
does seem to choke me somedays.
You loom large in my best childhood memories
and I feel not many can fathom my loss
the love is deep, the yearning to hold your hands even more
but with you, these are buried.
Why didnt I spend a week with you,
during all those summers when you were alone?
What stopped me from pushing everything else
and coming to you to watch that wondrous glee?
I hate to step into that house, that I once loved dearly.
Coz when I run in screaming "Ammmaame..."
you will not be there to ask me " Ethiyo?"
and I wont have anyone to hug and kiss.
Its six months today that you left us
and when I reach there, an empty house will welcome me
but I have a different place to go now.
I will see you at your new home - your Cemetry.
Love you Ammama,
Vincy.
Your face comes to my mind
especially when I say the prayers for dear departed
I never miss to tell God about you.
The pain is still fresh, the wounds are raw
and I miss you ever more each passing day
The lump in my throat, when I think of you
does seem to choke me somedays.
You loom large in my best childhood memories
and I feel not many can fathom my loss
the love is deep, the yearning to hold your hands even more
but with you, these are buried.
Why didnt I spend a week with you,
during all those summers when you were alone?
What stopped me from pushing everything else
and coming to you to watch that wondrous glee?
I hate to step into that house, that I once loved dearly.
Coz when I run in screaming "Ammmaame..."
you will not be there to ask me " Ethiyo?"
and I wont have anyone to hug and kiss.
Its six months today that you left us
and when I reach there, an empty house will welcome me
but I have a different place to go now.
I will see you at your new home - your Cemetry.
Love you Ammama,
Vincy.
Vincing...
ReplyDeleteMemories last. Very beautifully written.
ReplyDelete