Poem From Her Last Night


“At the very
bottom of your pocket :
After the coins and the notes in your wallet,
Copies of license, keys- of your
Room and your carriage,
A leaking pen, an unwashed hanky, ..
And, lastly,
Among the crushed, torn bus-tickets,
Somehow, I’ll slip in like a
Piece of sunshine.
Like the entrance of
The Narnia, you’ll always
Find me, on a complete-drenched-night,
on a woke-up-with-fever-morning,
When you least expect it.”

11 days after the funeral: after gathering all the strength to go back to work, while arranging her purse, an old bill falls out.
‘Mum’s birthday.’..
“she kissed this one one too”, a smile grows inside. She has gifted a new shade of lipstick to her mother every year on her birthday and after they would finish their meal, she would always try that on.  “why would she test it on the bills though?? That is so…” She giggles, “.. so her!”  A smile tints her lips.
As she felt the lump in her chest lighten up by a great deal, the last poem of her mother strikes her mind… The lines meant clearer now.

Way clearer.


Published by


Reader. Writer. But tea first. Book addict & Art Enthusiast. I prefer reeds than strings. humming than singing.

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