A gray old woman sits all alone
Unloved, uncherished and unknown.
Sitting beside her broken door.
Dreaming of days past long ago,
When children played about her knee,
Filling the air with childish glee,
Tended by her with loving care.
Knowing the blessing of a Mother’s prayer.
But now they have gone, each to his life
A girl to her husband, a boy to his wife,
Forgetful are they of her who sits here,
Silently wiping a tricking tear,
For striving for things in a life so brief,
Blind their poor eyes to a dear Mother’s grief.
But does she upbraid them in word or in mind.
Nor does their neglect to her seem unkind.
She’ll forgive and forget all unkindness they’ve shown
This poor old mother who sits alone.
I see the sadness in your eyes,
The times that you are knowing
What’s happening to your wondrous mind,
The symptoms you are showing.
It was so hard to recognize,
When they started coming through.
The little things that changed you
From the person that I knew.
The doctor’s confirmation
Was so hard to accept,
To know that little could be done,
That there’s no cure as of yet.
Forgive me, dear, if sometimes
I give in to my frustrations.
It’s just so overwhelming,
This change in our relations.
Now I’m the one to be on guard,
To keep you safe from harm,
Protecting you the best I can
And not showing my alarm.
I hope you still can understand
How much you mean to me.
Though you curse me, or forget me,
I’ll accept what has to be.
For I will still remember
The joys that we once shared.
You showed me in so many ways
How very much you cared.
I pray to God to give me strength
To do what must be done,
To trust that in the future
This battle will be won.
© The Honest Fabler- Pooja Mukherjee