Days of Tricks

Sunbeams hitting her from behind the bars of clouds
A two or three of them
Yes, there were three
Tied with soiled frocks
Playing tricks of counting
Starting from that day..

She was alone on the bank when
He was disappearing slowly
Behind the heaps of growth, of barren hopes
Her shadow, reflected on the narrow rill
Echoed the lame hope of getting back
The dreams of bringing back..

Echoing has its part in the lead
With the mother and her daughters
Playing the same game over the years
A tiny hope, he hasnt been slaughtered
The blood drops which when touched the grains
Formed the tears, the precious rains
A soldier never needs a veil
Always leaves a sanguine trail
To follow the past, to live and fight
To play the trick, the woeful plight..

Her only son when waits in womb
She stares and watches the counting trick
Handed over to the little Gods,
A soldier is coming within a few weeks..