Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra
Participate in the 3rd Season of STORYMIRROR SCHOOLS WRITING COMPETITION - the BIGGEST Writing Competition in India for School Students & Teachers and win a 2N/3D holiday trip from Club Mahindra

The End

The End

2 mins 151 2 mins 151

It is time for me to go, mother; I am going.

When in the paling darkness of the lonely dawn you stretch out

your arms for your baby in the bed, I shall say, "Baby is not

here!"-mother, I am going.

I shall become a delicate draught of air and caress you and

I shall be ripples in the water when you bathe, and kiss you and

kiss you again.

In the gusty night when the rain patters on the leaves you

will hear my whisper in your bed, and my laughter will flash with

the lightning through the open window into your room.

If you lie awake, thinking of your baby till late into the

night, I shall sing to you from the stars, "Sleep, mother, sleep."

One the straying moonbeams I shall steal over your bed, and

lie upon your bosom while you sleep.

I shall become a dream, and through the little opening of your

eyelids I shall slip into the depths of your sleep; and when you

wake up and look round startled, like a twinkling firefly I shall

flit out into the darkness.

When, on the great festival of puja, the neighbours' children

come and play about the house, I shall melt into the music of the

flute and throb in your heart all day.

Dear auntie will come with puja-presents and will ask,"Where

is our baby, sister?" Mother, you will tell her softly, "He is in

the pupils of my eyes, he is in my body and in my soul." 


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