in

Doting Daughters: A Poem by Srividya Subramanian

I opened my eyes at the hospital to see a tiny hand,

Tugging my fingers, struggling to hold on,

Tugging at my heartstrings in a random sequence,

Causing infinite emotions to flow and drench a barren land.

My little girl grew a little, a bundle of sweet agony,

She learnt innumerable tricks to bother her mother,

And kept them secret from her unsuspecting family,

But petulance changed to pride when I heard her shouts of glee.

Those tiny anklets which were my timepiece,

Whose beatific bells sang a song in harmony,

Will remain etched in every nerve of my being

And forever be more precious than Beethoven’s symphony.

I continue to reprimand her childhood that quit too soon,

And bequeathed its place to adulthood’s flavourful fantasies.

I hold close a book of fairy tales kept beneath a Kindle in her room

Indeed, every beautiful moth breaks out from a protective cocoon.

A daughter’s tight hug speaks more than a son’s gentle squeeze

Whose endearing words light up the dark corridors of life,

Also, a friend, companion, sister and teacher- she’s all in one

Her dynamic presence pleases a mind like a gentle breeze.