And out of the night they came;

Two lost souls; a gent and a dame.

Eyes a mirror of despair, they walked,

Not a word escaped, they never talked.


Desolation reigned, utter and resolute;

Their face a visage of despair, absolute.

They seemed to seek, to find a truth.

Would their journey bear fruit?


Not once did they touch, hold a hand.

A distance apart, they did stand.

It seemed like they sought to part away.

But something held that thought a-sway.


What was it that these two could share?

Even together, they seemed not to care.

What was the bond that held them as one?

They seemed from each other, on the run?


Then out of the same night he came;

A wee lad, cherubic face, in one leg lame.

He lifted his hands & held one of each.

I understood why there was no need for speech.


Parenthood was the bond they held dear;

Even though they were apart, not near.

For their child they had made the sacrifice.

For this happiness they had paid this price.

About Sonal Singh

I believe that life is a repertoire of anecdotes. The various situations that we encounter, the many incidents of every day, the people we meet, our conversations with them; all make life a melange of tales. And, that is what I attempt to capture through my writing. My cooking is no different! It reflects my love for travel and my love for innovation. The kitchen is my happy place. So, even though by vocation I am a recruiter (, by passion I am a writer, home chef and a hodophile.

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