Yes, grandma!

I am awake, go on…

 

Lucky are they

who have seen grandma,

luckier still

who got stuck to her

to hear stories of witches and ghosts,

and lovelier ones, too,

of Red Riding Hood and Piped Piper…

 

A home short of her wrinkled forehead

is like without butter a piece of dry bread,

a blank paper not scribbled by a baby,

without dots, lines, cartoons and stories,

good for the trash can with no queries

 

A pond is incomplete

without a lotus,

will a night sky be complete

without a moon and million stars,

the heart too is incomplete

without the ripples of love,

and the home is incomplete

without giggling kids

and grandma’s treasure-trove!