The beautiful strength

 

 

 

The night melts to a simmering dawn

When the nascent hues flow down her tress

Like a holy river  from the pious vale

Amidst dripping flavors of the floral track

Her clinging bangles are the music of morn

As she orchestrates her universe with a silent stick

Tip toe and still rising often to a calm crescendo

Like a Yogi lost within the woods of meditation

Decanting self on the floating residue

She bakes the morning under a dim sun

For others are lost in a sonorous dream

The time has already slipped for her

The steam in kitchen is the alarm for others

She rushes out to catch the bus

With half a morsel in hand , she clutches handles

And returns on time much in the  same fashion

Through the slimy hands that dangle the entire way

Then she wraps up the day on the dark stove

While completing the school homework

On the pillow lies her broken bangle

Much like a crescent in the dark sky

There is an old  scratch on her wrist

That she smartly  flaunte as a tattoo .

 

Delhi

8.3.24

13.23 hrs

2132