Shayari Bazar

Although a daughter, I write this as a mother.We’re both mothers now, of childdaughters:You, a grandmother forced to be a mother,And I, a widow, alone with my fatherless daughter.Death has thus shaped both our lives in waysWe would not have chosen. Yet life is still the bright,Painfully lovely thing it was always:Our children like dancers on a dark, splendid night,Needing our loves as I needed yours; your loveThe same song as ever, a lullaby I rememberSo well from my time in your arms. We moveIn slow spirals towards the stars. SeptemberHas weeks like June, yet is closer to the fall.Love has no answers, yet its beauty answers all.