Aside

Mother

Hand smoothes hair back

halts at the frizzy bun

draws back again

to caress the dear one on her lap

wailing gently on the folds of her churidar

 

There are no words of “hush”

for these are the sounds of expression

where words do not exist

 

– She brings her hand once more

to the strings of her electric guitar

and together they hum

 

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