Harshita Sancheti
Her little hands endows with care, flush
My hallow heart, as it melt it
To remembering her care, daily
Mom …a strong ladder to climb days,
With ease, days turn soft,
As I climb with her ,
Shadow ,full plain on me ,
The secret of it , only none could understand ,
But her, that drew me on earth
I can’t forget her love ,
Which dries up pain ,along
With shame ,
Then I understand it with, mom
The secret …to having it,
Turn soft .
By Harshita Sancheti
Beawar , Rajasthan
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