mohanrashi111
  Junior Member

A Poem Starts With A Lump in the Throat

I think of my mother sometimes.
Her bangled hands as she hangs up the phone, goodnight beta, jaldi so jaana,
And her sigh as the sounds end.
The curtains of my home are the same. The cups we drink tea in, same–
A different number.
Her...

– by Rashi