In The Womb Of My Mother

Nine months before my birth,

I sat in the womb of my caring dear mother,

About whom, only after my birth,

Did I care to bother.

In a lightless red sky did I sit,

Kicking my loving mother in a careless fit,

Sometimes of anger, sometimes of joy,

While she must have sat wondering, is it a girl or a boy!

Her comfortable womb was the only world known to me,

Where, oblivious I sat, of the larger world which I was yet to see!