I put her to sleep…I think she’s off And slowly slide from the bed… Oh no, she’s not, she raises Her curly-tangled head. When her arms go round my neck, A tiny voice whispers in my ear, “Deepamma, don’t go away!” I want to spend forever here…. Children are the sweet tendrils That wind themelves around your heart. It wrenches me, each time I have To tear myself apart.