and two brothers parted ways.
Once their hearts to affection bound
now spend their own lonely days.
Among them the mother is torn -
seasons pass, her hair grey's.
Poisoned heart and looks of scorn
unmended - they keep up the craze.
The wired fence is still there,
but the wheel would again turn.
Unheeded remained a mother's prayer -
but her wishes live on in a silver urn.
Prasenjit©1997-2022
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