she lives.....call it life?

Frozen in time capsule
that twelve year old, shrieks
of pains untold, fangs cutting deeper
injecting severe reality
deep in her nerves.

Death, Divorce, Drama of life
diverting all drains of happiness
away from her existence;
deserted in dreary desert of life
she thrives.

Tears, drops of piercing pain
her constant accomplice
in sadness and life alike
flows in anguished rivulets
flooding her total existence.

I MISS MY DAUGHTERS

Mama,she says,starts singing the 'waving flag' as if the world cup fever just got started. Tears sting my eyes, it flows unchecked, she continues singing. My eyes are red and she looks up innocently and askes me, "mama, why are you crying?" I shed more tears. "Don't cry.When you reach back home, you won't recognise me." she raises herself on her toes to tell me that she will be taller than she is now.I laugh.

My daughter, my angel who taught me to laugh in the saddest hour and who made me shed tears in the most happiest hour. Since the time I concieved her, I made a understanding with the heavens above that my death will be put on hold till the time I see her fully settled in life. I would write letters to her, telling about the progress we made each month of our togetherness.
My days were never the same after she came in my world. I found reasons to live life in a different way. My nights would be filled with songs she made me sing. Now looking at her, through the monitor, I see our roles has reversed, she sings now and I listen. When I shed tears, she consoles me; when I am down, she plays the clown so that I can laugh.

How much time has elapsed since I craddled her in the nook of my arms; how her rosy innocence is blooming into the sweet essence of girlish charm. How I long to look up to catch her eyes and feel her hug me with gentle care. How I long to run after her in the meadow of dreams where winds carry the messages of love to the heavens above.

Dear daughter, what do I write to tell you how much your mama misses you.

OF DREAMS AND REALITY

Well hidded behind my lips
lies thousand unspoken dreams,
and buried deep within my heart
is all the prayers
for these dreams I've dreamt.

Infront of my eyes
lies the harsh reality,
feelings that tarnish
all truth of the dreams
I've dreamt with care.

Now, struck like a stranger
in my own being,
I wander like a vagabond
with no dreams as companion
and no courage to face reality.