The Poet (For my grandson when he was four)
He comes with sure intent
Each waddling step marks,
A widening grin, his laugh
Jingles in the mint of his eyes,
And a rubber world drops
Out of his outstretched hands,
And bounces away –
He climbs on the roof of the desk,
A gesture of the hands
With the impatience of kings
Sweeps off my cares –
Papers, bills, checkbook and all,
As pen in hand,
He scratches a poem for me!
The Last Farewell (For a dear friend who recently passed away)
Pleadingly, you looked at me,
Your hands held mine, tight,
Eyes spoke, lips did not move,
The ambulance outside glared –
Shrill sounds and blazing lights,
Two men carried you.
Hopelessly, you looked back for the last time.
The door closed behind you –
The remains of the siren stole through the house,
Where your slippers waited,
An endless wait!
Meenakshi Mohan has taught for over two decades in America, having earned a Doctoral degree from Chicago in Educational Administration with a focus on Early Childhood. She has published papers and books and has been included twice in the Who’s Who among American Teachers.