by Kritika Bhatia
Whenever I needed an aid,
You'd always provide it,
Without a hitch,
And then, besides me, you would sit,
To spend some gala time, talking about your life, and your good experiences.
I never used to get sleep at night,
You made me listen to fairy tales,
To make me enter the fantasy,
Of the characters,
And imagine myself to be one of them,
And eradicate all my fears,
Of staying in the dark.
I went to school to get my results,
Confident to have done well,
And it was not long after my assumption came true,
That outside my school, I saw you!
Waving your hand at me,
Which I could clearly see.
Then, I ran down after my school dispersed,
Just to see you lying in a pool of blood,
Passers by told me you were hit by a car,
Speeding its way to reach his destination, so far,
I rushed you to the hospital,
And you were declared dead on arrival.
I returned home, leaving the door ajar,
And went for a shower,
Pondering the whole day about the reason,
Why you were called to Heaven,
So soon, before twilight,
And why you couldn't see the next day with the Sun shone so bright.
There's no one to hear me cry,
No one to console me,
No one to hear me moan,
Thus, leaving me all alone.
The driver, for you, had no mercy,
Didn't even think whether you had a family,
He's got his punishment, no doubt about that,
But for me, there's no one to idolize at.
Last updated January 15, 2014