50 Feathers of Warmth

My spectacles are cruel as they don't allow me to see your vivid hues and fluttering wings. But you teach me the meaning of love each time you sit on my head of white hair and frightfully wrinkled face. You teach me the meaning of love each time you manage to grab the cashew from my terribly trembling palm. Today, as the Golden sun rays kiss your body, under this orange autumn meadow, your pearl-like brown eyes look into mine, dipped in the hues of innocence, I would sing for you. I would sing the melodies of gratitude for each dusk and dawn you sang for me and taught me the meaning of love by staying, when everyone else didn't. Let me sing you into eternity as I inhale my final breaths. Sing with me, Honey, as the rosary beads move. 

"I will embed all the stars into your wings

I will weave for you a rainbow-colored scarf

For the dark is deep and colored in blood..."

Are you listening, Meethi? Why are you fluttering around so rapidly, Meethi? Why would you oscillate like this, Meethi? Are you okay? 

Oh, you must be sleeping peacefully in the laps of heaven, with your wings resting, as you fell in the horns of final sleep when I was seven.