Mother's Duty Cycle Poem by Dhanya M G

A little baby cute as clay idol,
wriggling in sand like it were a bed.
Dust and dirt paints its body,
As sun shines on,
the painted body gleams.

There comes the mother after a hard day's toil,
her clothes wet with sweat dripping like waterdrops
smiles, then heaves a sigh of relief
to find the baby, left all day long, still there,
there on the ground where she left.

She then gazes at its cloth of dust,
and she is not surprised
'It's all in the cycle', she whispers.
takes the baby in her arms,
gives it an ablution with cold water, that is all she can afford,
dries it to the last dropp with her wetty-sweaty cloth,
kisses it and the warmth of the baby fills her up.
Then she concludes,
'The day had its perfect ending'.