A distant cousin
walked home
in the evening.
For a moment
could hardly
recognize her.
To hide my
feelings greet her
with a warm smile.
Engaging in conversation
recall her name through
her soft voice. A unique tone.
She stays with me
for a while. Talk
of the good old days,
her mother and my mom
enter and remain though not
in the real sense
references of them
bring back old memories
enthusiasm overwhelms,
turns into an evening
of retrospection
those of the mothers.
Meenas Poems 