I Hate My Kids for:
Moving on in my absence
not missing me like I miss them
not crying silently in the dead of the night
thinking of things I do.
Not clutching my clothes
and try to sniff me through the fabric;
not holding my books
like I touch their toys
trying to trace the invisible fingers
that clutched those lovingly.
Not making their eyes sore
and their nose red
sniffing silently,submerging the silent sobs
in the ocean of wishful thinking
wishing the to harness the anchor
in the harbour of togetherness.
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