By Deepa Srivastava
THE SEPARATION
The school bus is waiting for you
Ready to take you away from mum
As your soft hands leave my palm
I bid you goodbye! My son
You climb the steps with an effort
Clutching your school bag and bottle tight
Your big watery eyes gazing at me
As I bid you goodbye! My son
We communicate scores in that moment
Sharing the pangs of separation
Waiting to reunite after the school hours
I bid you goodbye! My son
Deepa Srivastava is a freelance writer. She has performed on diverse literary platforms.
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