“It is unusual”, so saying
I walk towards the door
to find rains pouring
heavily.
The mat in my porch
lies drenched , the cane chairs
turn wet, the footwear
are no exception.
Tucking my saree high
I roll the mat, pull the chairs,
place the shoes on the steps,
go about as if I am sixteen.
” Well done”. I applaud
and walk briskly towards the door
my knees give way, I land
on the floor in a crash.
With none around to put
me back on foot, I remain
on the floor for a while
muster to rise.
I did get up with great effort
dragging my legs I walk in
my knee tells me softly,
” You are not sixteen”!
Meenas Poems 