By Nitusmita Saikia
Contributing Author for Spark Igniting Minds
The remembrance of early days chirps,
At times,
As if the chanting verses of love
Before her darling takes leave,
Now remains just dust and
Its aroma in quest of drops of rain!
Revolving round the vermilion forehead,
from pole to pole;
Mornings becoming days, days towards nights,
Since the breath when her palm was shaded
in newly bloomed henna!
Dreams are mourning under her pillow,
As the Promises folded in a silk kerchief!
Now unfolded!
A few vermilion drops of dew die every day,
As it passes her old rose tree by!
Corn sweet days were ripe in her patch,
Choir of dear ones there in the twilight,
And darkness in and out,
Like a lamp hanging out of the clouds,
In her long summer night!
Tried not to let fall into eventual decay
Her home! She termed it that way,
Being well-wisher; got abandoned to the care of none,
Holding all bonds still,
Beneath the burden of vermilion roof!
No name left, for she was the bride,
Money making machine or warming up apparatus,
Sometimes for her man,
Sometimes for in-laws,
Venality in extreme, for she is a woman!
(Featured Image by Gordon Johnson from Pixabay)
About the Author
Nitusmita Saika is by profession an instructor in National Cadet Corps, She writes both in English and Assamese. She has been writing poetry for e-magazines like FM online magazine for couple of years.
Her poems have been published in various anthologies under www.realisticpoetry.com and much more.