Met a friend of mine a day ago
talked of many issues in the go
she would narrate a burglary
whenever I meet her regularly
she would keep her face so serious
her eyes would emit a fear innocuous
she would begin with a big ado
relates the incident one by one in a row
the old woman got up in between the night
she felt restless and her breath was tight
she tossed in her bed all too tired
she saw someone moving in the side
could that be her imagination she thought
nay not it was a man who had barged in
she was all alone in the house
rang up her friend who stayed close
before he could come the man had left
she opened the door with fear intact
the man had made good of her gold locket
as well as the cash she had in her purse pocket.
I heard the story with great interest
not that the incident was an 
arrest
the storytelling was my friend’s asset.
Meenas Poems 