Paint the body beige
the border scarlet
I shout from down below.
Painters are up, balancing
on the scaffolding with
paint and brush,
I stand in the sun
holding an umbrella
sporting sunglasses,
those above turn
towards me , braving
the heat,
Clad in shorts and a T. Shirt
they are there from 8 am
in the morning.
Unmindful of their discomforts
I keep on screaming
add a little more of stain
make the red a wee lighter
at the corners. The window sills
need to be darker red
the walls should render warmth.
a little lighter one of beige.
Condescending they pay
attention to my demands.
It is lunch time they descend
walk hurriedly towards me,
I take a step backward, a bit
uneasy, They come closer,
I go back a little .
Nearing me, they say in a chorus,
Amma, You taught us how to mix
and match. Appa! I cry, relieved,
Expecting an accusation.
as an heartless woman
I accost an appreciation.
Stand elated!
Meenas Poems 