On My Mother'death

Her body became still.
Her consciousness was nil.
I knew she had passed away.
For old aged it is the final way
A month later,I visited her room.
It was a picture of gloom.
Her walking stick and foot wear ,at the door.
Her spectacles fallen on the floor.
Wrapped in a bundle,her clothes she wore.
Her empty bed filled sorrow to the core.
In solitude I relive those moments of pain.
Trying to hold my tears,but in vain.