Thursday, March 5, 2020

Mother


She begun her day with charcoal 
And ends her day with crockeries. 
Not for fame but for home!
She burnt her flesh, 
And loved her blood. 
But she was not a matter of concern, 
As she was a mother who conceived dreams. 

Nameless I

Fill my tummy with platters, While my neighbour's tummy is filled with air. Let me touch the sky, When my knight's rook sank in t...