Where ebbed, the essence, of her milk
In the, endless stretch, to school, from home
By the scent, of substance, weaved in silk
Of the souls, who hailed, “Shalom, Shalom…”!

“They too bleed, like your, mother’s creed”
She showed me, their, ever-weathering souls
And then, lifeblood, that spilled, the seed
Of beauty, of life, which weathers, all falls!

In nirvana, like saints, they swayed
On a, bare patch, where, no life, would sprout
That starkest shade, wherein I, once played
Is a, lingering enigma, of my thought!

In love’s, fertile yard, my mother, still lasts
Whispering, “Beauty, always remains”
Still lives, in graveyard, of my pasts
That Boy, Lost In, Eucalyptus Lane!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra