I always saw her alone,
She came to the park,
Every day in the morning,
And again in the evening,
She slowly walked,
With a walking stick,
The smile less lips,
Never left each other,
But spoke many words,
I couldn't listen to.
She silently watched,
Beauty of roses,
Beauty of Jasmine,
None she talked,
The silver white hairs,
And her skin of the wrist,
And that of her cheeks,
Like an abstract art,
Told many stories!
That I couldn't read.
The sobers eyes,
Behind spectacles,
And small ear rings,
Long sleeves of her shirt,
The heel less shoes,
The old styles,
A motherly outlook,
Above all her silence,
Indicated a pain,
I didn't know what?
Then came a day,
She was not alone!
With her,
Were two children,
A boy above twelve,
And a girl under twelve,
She was smiling,
She was loudly calling,
The vendors of the park,
For ice Cream and cold drinks,
For pop corns,
In response to the quakes,
Of the ducks in the pond.
I didn't ask her,
She told me herself,
My grandchildren,
After a decade,
From United States,
Have come to see me,
They are settled in states.
A few more days passed,
In the like manner,
But then she didn't come,
To the park for walking,
After a few months,
I started thinking,
Has she gone,
To United States?
Or somewhere else!
Akhtar Jawad
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/somewhere-else-11/
