From A Mother To Her Queens Of Hearts

I didn’t know the meaning of life,
For many many years.
The sun rose and the routine began,
Waking you, getting you ready, plaiting and ribboning,
Packing tiffins, and putting you in a waiting bus.
The hours that followed were even quicker,
Bedspreads neatly tucked in a very moderate home,
Clothes lines neatly displaying your tiny attires,
Vaporized and ready to be ironed for my three queens,
Tossing up your favourites, timing every chore,
With the slow hands of the clock.
Homework, tables, rhymes, we happily sat together and learnt.
As you started growing up the tug-off-wars began,
Sometimes we pulling you and sometimes you pulling us.
Little realising that God had already reserved places for you,
You were now mature and didn’t need to follow us.
The ripening had started, and you were our new leaders,
You were aspiring, and now we had become your shadows.
How and when did the hands of the clock start running so fast,
That we didn’t even realise our birds had flown out of the window,
We look at your wings, your feathery flights, your fledglings,
Your dreams, your joys, your fulfillments,
As the ripened fruit of our hearts.

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Balveen Cheema

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Balveen Cheema has been teaching English for 25 years. It is at the ripe age of 60 that she started penning her thoughts into poetry. Being brought up and educated by her grandparents in a cosmopolitan environs of Pune and visiting her parents in rural Punjab during her vacations, she shuttled between the modern and rural backgrounds . A strong streak of romanticism with nature and rustic pleasures is evident in many of her poems. At present she is residing in Chandigarh and still enjoying her first love, poetry!
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