The streetlamp casts a dim light on the ground, like a train trailing behind.

I’m now squatting down by a rocking horse, on whose back rides

my daughter, hands firmly with the handles in a wanton ride.

Her lips half asunder, a joyous giggling is unleashed; her eyes

grows invisible, the inky night enclosed inside.

Five meters away Mum sits in a rocking chair, alone. Her limbs

hang down loosely, with a serenity like a statue. 
In a flash, as it were, I drift into a vision where I sit in Mum’s position

with the same serenity; my daughter squats in my position, regarding a child

on horseback. Mum is mute, as she is lying in a shroud exactly like how

Grandma is positioned at this very moment.