On the purple couch She does belong, And she sings along, Between numbers divine- Ruth B's 'Lost boy' She plays again, And humming Trampoline, By amazing Shaed and Zayn, My princess shifts, In the next moment, Taylor Swift's Melody drifts.
Outdoors, the Virus Covid 19 corpses pile, Indoors 24 by 7, Locked down we cope To keep alive hope, Try home remedies so naive, Praying they do survive, Days elapsed more than Three Sixty Five.
I keep glued my eye To the 15×17" screen, On the digital 'virtual' platform I 'Meet' strangers, And also my own, Our voices low, Our spirit sunk, With cameras off On Zoom, Our world's shrunk Into our living room.
Her O level Exams In 2021 scheduled, How short a reign Childhood ruled! I feel cheated By Time, fooled.
Am I ready For the silence That will follow soon, For Papa Johns pizza, No more sulky tantrum, No one over-the-moon?
Am I ready To say goodbye As she'll pack My heavy heart In her backpack?
Are moms able To recall How to thrive? Or do they amidst A mount of Muted memories cry?
Will I pretend To smile and survive, Counting each day, Till my kid beloved, For a short visit Will arrive next May? Is that how I'll Suddenly, rapidly Go wrinkled and grey?
Till then, Though listless, Am I suppose to Just breathe, And glance At lifeless doors And dull chores replete Just repeat, repeat, repeat, and repeat?
How do I thrive After my nestling, Far away will fly, Into a distant sky?