A dash of madness

She is a petulant old lady they say,

Her gnarled bony fingers knitting away.

Her bent figure slowly plodded on,

She gave a wry smile but sill looked forlorn.

“She’s mad!” they exclaimed, “Don’t go near her”.

I wonder what they saw in her to fear.

Its true she shooed the kids and never had a kind word,

yet I saw her tenderness for a poor injured bird.

I was just a traveler and was soon to leave the place,

but my mind was troubled, it could not forget her face.

I ventured to ask her if she was really mad.

She took a long look at me and asked if I meant sad.

“My daughter was a sweet child, but not like other children you see.

So they took her away, they snatched a part of me.

I begged and pleaded for our life to be as before,

my cries went unheeded,the society is dead and no more.

Why to vouch for fake the  humanity when there is none,

I’d rather be mad than see the world burn.”

I just gave her a hug and left soon after,

wondering if faith could be restored in her warm laughter.

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