The third of the second month
one to remember
at least for me
the day when I shared
the yoke of marriage.
Been doing so
for not one year
but for forty seven years
tirelessly but with a diligence,
going forth and back steadily
with and without complaints.
Major part of my years
distributed between
toil and foil, expected
and unexpected.
negatives surpass
almost every time.
Negotiating, moving
escaping, caught in between
all happen with a striking force
I look back, while my lips quiver
eyes turn moist, heart feels heavy.
as the forty seventh year dawns.
Meenas Poems 