Last night in a dream,
I thought I saw my mother
I tried to visualise her,
sitting on her chair
book in hand,
the one
she was reading
most of which
I never understand.
I like fiction,
she liked reality.
So the books she gave me
were left unread,
like the books I gave her..
Though I scoured
the bookshelves.
Today I understand
I never did understand
Her. Nor did she me,
I like to believe.
That in her own way,
She loved me.
Did she?
(Maybe.)
ipsita banerjee 
Love how you explored the complex relationship between a mother and her daughter, and the intellectual and emotional divide between them. I could sense longing for a connection, as well as restraint.
And regret.
Beautifully written.
Visited my blog after five long years almost. Got here through my blogroll/’blogs I follow’ link. Congratulations for the fact that you still find the time and motivation to write.
Keep writing! Cheers!
– CRD (scriptedinsanity.blogspot.com)
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Thank you, forgot about this one myself. Sometimes we write down our thoughts never to think of them again till someone holds up a mirror.
Here. This too is you!
I.
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Love how you explored the complex relationship between a mother and her daughter, and the intellectual and emotional divide between them. I could sense longing for a connection, as well as restraint.
And regret.
Beautifully written.
Visited my blog after five long years almost. Got here through my blogroll/’blogs I follow’ link. Congratulations for the fact that you still find the time and motivation to write.
Keep writing! Cheers!
– CRD
LikeLike