By Dr Munish Sabharwal
Sit With Her
She never asked for grand returns,
No shining gifts, no gold she earns,
Her wealth was hidden in quiet days —
In watching you grow in a thousand ways.
Her hands were clocks that never slept,
Through fevered nights where silence wept,
She measured time in your every breath,
Guarding you gently from pain and death.
You ran ahead chasing skies so wide,
While she stood still, with patient pride,
Her world grew small, her hair turned grey,
Waiting for “later” that never came her way.
She does not ask for riches or fame,
She still calls you by your childhood name,
A cup of tea, a story told —
Moments with you are her pots of gold.
Sit with her… before time slips fast,
Before today becomes the past,
For someday chairs will stand apart,
And silence will question your restless heart.
Talk to her — of nothing, of all,
Of simple days you barely recall,
For love is not in words we send,
But in the time we choose to spend.
One day you’ll search for that gentle voice,
That made your smallest victories rejoice,
And you’ll understand, through tears that start —
A mother was home… disguised as a heart.
So pause your world, let hurried plans blur,
Life can wait — just sit with her.
