My home far away,
My sweet little niece,
No cheat for a bed,
She doss down as usual,
Lay aside her pretty head;
A sleep on the hay.
The cattle are lowing.
Birds are chirping.
The stars in the bright sky
look down where we lay.
Sound of gunshots,
All of a sudden,
Echoes in the mountain;
Hear footsteps
rumbling down the corridor.
My angel awakes,
With her bright eyes open,
But no crying she makes;
I love you, my sweetheart.
She clings to me
and stays by my cradle,
till morning is bright.
The stars in the bright sky
look down how we stay.
Usham Rojio
6th January 2010
About Me
- Rojio Usham
- Presently a post doctoral fellow at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. One of the Associate Editors of "Eastern Quarterly". Writes poetry and short plays, performs and directs plays experimenting different forms of acting methodology and performance aesthetics.
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