She lost her mother at a tender age
I’m 42 now
She loved to read but read she least
And she repented how
Music was she held in heart
Humming now and then
Proud to be a ‘Dakshini’ girl
(To tell she shied often)
She was always ready to help
That won her many a friends
When it came to her own health
She seldom cared to listen
She was brave to fight her disease
That could no one win
And held her passion to live
Even when her body ruined
She had to give in one day
But she liked to be in sense
Leaving last of earthly things
Except her chipped eye lens
Now, my little son asks me
‘Baba where has Thamma gone?’
When I look in blank he replies;
‘To the golden crest of the silver moon’
