Mother and daughter

Walking up a few miles,
Copperskies whence left a distinct hue
She put her legs on the slope
And thought of lying there for a while,
The bees might be humming somewhere,
And the evening would be soon having a sweep,

She remembered when she was much younger than
Today, she had the habit of lying flat on the yielding earth
And her mother would then also come and sit by her,
She would sing songs, tell her stories, and run her fingers through her hair,

There would  be silence all around,
And those were her moments of bonding with her mom,
She would find smell of spring flowers in her,
And her songs often left a wandering tone
She would close her eyes and listen with attention rapt,
She would think that her songs might be floating
And going to faraway places, down the valley,
To the barn, where horsemen might be still working on,
From there to the small town, dotted with shops and hotels,
From there taking the road by the stream to another place...

'Gotcha!'
She was taken aback by the shout
Followed by giggles,
She turned around to see her daughter,
'Come, sit here by me...
I will sing you a song'
She said.

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