Sunset

I listened to her in horror, in awe

Of words so powerful they could kill
I was all of six and so was she
But said she did and how
"It's true that mothers die"

I shivered all the way back to home
No way to know if my mother did die
An hour for a six year old, already long
that day, it stretched into aeons

Until she came in her starched pink saree 
groceries, clothes to sell, evening treats, 
pink saree wiped my wet tears then 

I prayed that night to forget the day 
which never happened but
Sunset's long shadows scare me still.