The other day I got off the phone with a friend and plunged into a ruminative mood,
It was instinctive and I didn’t mean to brood,

We were speaking after a long time,
She filled me in with details with happenings that took place in this long time,

She spoke of her son at the threshold of being a teen,
The exalted emotions that are part and parcel of such a being,

She then spoke of his enrolment in special computer class,
A first class in it was a guarantee to move ahead of the mass,

Although she complained of his antics,
I could detect a mother’s pride in his achievements in academics,

She then asked me what was new at my end,
I thought for a bit because there was nothing new to contend,
So instead I told her how all the children we knew were all grown up,
All branching out in their fields but for my baby’s letup,

It was that time in our children’s lives,
When one from life the most derives,
This was a time when one was most alive,
Feeling, experiencing, living with a drive,

And here was my little one,
Feeling, sensing every bit but somewhat undone,

While her friends pick subjects of their choice,
My baby is struggling to literally find her voice,

While her mates debate the merits of boards,
She is fighting her limbs which are in discords,

While her peers prepare to be the family’s next backbone,
My baby strengthens her back both in supine and prone,

But like they say this time too shall pass,
I am waiting, waiting for the green grass