The Sky Sings...

 

Ashalata Dash

 

The sky sings his glory;

The sea swells far and wide,

 The soil smiles beside

While I push a soul-suffused

Centennial baby

In a wheel-chair-pram.

 

 

The baby scatters

 His fun and smile

 As of a cute child

Of ten-months old.

His wise joviality

Impresses the traffic

And the passers-by

 In a magic circle

Of exuberant ecstasy.

 

 

As a companion

Or as a meek matron

 I feel nothing but pride

 In pushing his wheel-chair

 Or seeing him

Pushed by my side.

 

 

My motherly heart,

Sealed so long

Opens abruptly

Like a secret spring

And I have nothing

 

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More to offer

 Than a love

Perennial and pure,

A wish to see him

Stay still longer!

 

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