Three Quarters of a Year...

I don’t remember how old I was,

As I never knew, what a calendar was then,

So simple that my life was,

I never cared, if the clocked ticked five or it ticked ten.

I didn’t cry, but mom said I did smile,

I always wondered how mommy would know,

Even if she saw me, only once a while,

Every time she saw me grow.

Ah, it was all so nice and warm,

So secured was I, nobody could ever harm,

I never knew then, what hunger was,

I was loved beyond limits, without a pause.

Mom and I used to talk for long,

She’d tell me stories of the mighty kings,

At time she’d even sing me a song,

Never thinking of the world, how she sings,

But she knew one thing for sure,

All that mattered, that I was listening to her.

As I grew up and wanted to see the world of today,

I had sensed it, this was my day,

I cried for the first time, all covered in blood, just like red wine,

With every one smiling around, everything seemed fine,

Wrapping her arms around me, holding me tight,

Like she’d never let me go from her sight,

I realized it then, as she wiped my first tear,

I had spent my best three quarters of a year.