In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.
You would have been four by now,
Maybe just started school.
Your mother loves you, I want you
To know that. But then you always
question. You ask me, "Why did you
stop me ? Was I not reason enough for
Happiness ?"
You were, my child, you were.
I stopped you, I did not want you to
die in the way I do. Every single day.
My blood and tears are reason enough
To stop you. Maybe some other world
Is ours. Where I can keep you hidden
From vile eyes, words and touch.
Where I can see you smile, walk and grow.
Where I can beam after watching your laughter.
In the shade of our tamarind tree,
I often think about you, my baby.
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