She says, her mother often talks to her
She says, every Sunday she visits her
She was convinced about her claims,
I still disbelieved,
for I knew her mother had long departed….
how could I believe?
My best friend, I felt bad she was sad,
Wanted to help her, before world called her mad.
So, this Sunday, to observe her, I decided,
From a distance, I watched; I waited…
A cool breeze in the house, suddenly swept,
Along with it, the wind-chimes too, chimed…
A mystic fragrance then filled the air,
Along with it musical choir played, faint...
“Mama! You’re here, I missed you so,”
Stunned, I heard my friend’s monologue,
"Yes, my baby," her mother spoke,
Her claims, since, I never disbelieved.
This post is for Magpie Tales 242
Copyright 2014 © Nandini Deka