Too Late

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As the afternoon slipped in,

And it was time, to take a doze;

Into my grandmother’s bed,

Beside her, I crept close.


Tales laden with affection,

She narrated, as I drifted off to sleep;

Lores of concrete enmity and friendship,

And stories that made me weep.


Folklores dating centuries back,

Or of new era contemporaries may it be;

Through the day, storybooks she read,

To tell, yet another tale to me.


But with the tides of time,

Apart, our paths drifted;

The once strong relationship,

Into varied priorities it shifted.


Through the highs and lows of life,

I turned a vim spirited teen;

While she, with her profound serenity,

Stayed as she had been.



No longer, was I interested in her stories,

Rather to gossip with friends, I preferred;

And with the slippin’ hour,

To mere ‘hi’ and ‘hello’ was our conversation curbed.


‘I’ll talk to her tomorrow’, I promised every today,

But as hollow as the pipe did always the promise stay;

Until one fine day, it was too late,

As onto Mother Nature’s arms, her soul drifted away.


For the fault I made,

 I could blame god, destiny or just fate;

But my conscience shall for eternity regret,

Cause, it was just too late.


                                           –Ishaan Phukan

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