The little girl
Stayed wide awake.
She would not take
No for an answer
Would not go to sleep
Even when her grandmother said
That it is too late
And you should hear the owls hooting
The nasty ghosts coming all the way
To eat your little nose up!
She would laugh
With so much glee
And say
Ghosts aren't real, grandma
There are angels.
And then
She would insist
With unfathomable delight in her eyes
And childlike innocence
Tell me about Radha, grandma
And about Krishna.
The grandmother would smile
And the night would pass.
If we still breathe on Earth,
Krishna
We owe our lives to
Sweet, wrinkled
Grandmothers.
YOU ARE READING
Radha's Krishna
PoetryRadhaRamana, The Beloved of Radha he is. He is everything, in everyone. He is sung, he is loved, he lives. But Radha? ______ Narrated in the voice of one of Hindu mythology's most powerful characters, Radha's Krishna is a collection of poems, an o...
