Man and woman are in love.
Enraged you bellow
“who else would be in love?”
I say again “man and woman are in love”.
You turn your face in anger
I make my case stronger
by presenting a version shorter
as I find you patient no longer.
A twenty-two year old-young lass
is in love with a man eighty plus
She has fallen head over heels not less
the old man keeps aloof nevertheless.
The young woman pursues with fervour
finally wins over the man with amour
They tie the knot without glamour
giving rise to speculation and rumour.
You might feel a little awkward .
To me it is an amazing unite a bit untoward.
It might appear to be sensibly backward.
It is but the sensitivity of love in a forward.
Running through the pages
found a lovely image
of a bird in a cage.
whose big eyes looked sad.
The bird seemed to be desolate with fear
as it had no freedom to relish and cheer
seemed to curl itself in the rear
The image brought tears.
Perhaps the bird was thinking
of its friends in the trees flying
hopping, pecking and singing
enjoying every minute of their life.
The joy of freedom is infinitive
The little bird held as a fugitive
in the cage would get a feed remunerative
but has lost the rejoice of being free.
With a heavy heart turned the pages
recollecting the freedom movement in stages.
wondering how did the fighters survived the outrage
Heaving a sigh threw the book in disgust.
Talking of others was her pastime
getting into details was her life time
elaborating with exaggeration in no time
she made up stories of all time.
She was lady of no rank.
Seeing her would tank
the heart of many to a blank,
Yet she carried on with a crank.
Advancing in age she went about the same
not bothered about her diminishing fame
You would say does she have a name?
I say it is her habit nothing to blame.
Smiling the two-year old waved at everyone
She was relaxing in a pram soliciting one by one
She with rosy lips and dimple chin gestured
lovely, calling all to her.
A grand looking lady took her hand
she ran her fingers through the curly strand
carefully adjusted her slipping band
placed a gift and walked away .
The mother saw the gift expensive.
wanting to know the giver she sat down pensive.
The little one played happily with the toy
unaware of her mother’s turmoil.
Pushing the pram she moved through the crowd
disturbed she walked slowly mumbling loud .
putting things together she was able to unravel the mystery
The donor was none other than her estranged mother.