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the Journey of my mind

I cannot write poetry . However,what I write, I cannot call it prose. Whenever I've shown it to someone they said it was poetry. You read and decide then let me know



Tuesday 15 September 2020

Dead

 Another Moment

It was the last day.

My mother refused to stay in bed

I put her on my feet ,

Held her  to my body 

And walked  her  to the TV room


I sat her down,

Propped her  with pillows

Lay my head on her shoulders 

 Held her close  and sang her a song

She corrected me when I went wrong .


After a while   I  said good bye.

It was Diwali.

I went for a party

I played cards the whole night


I returned  when it was early morn .

Got ready for bed.

 Just then my father called

Maa was dead