The Mother Of Babies!
The society has retired and placed me in front of Television,
What I have, is the memory of the working life, glory and pain,
The spouse of mine reminds me of the shrunken apple,
The hazing sight, dreamy eyes that look to the doors knobs,
All of a sudden she has got up at the arrival of the kids',
Drives to the market to pick up the best for their favorite dish,
The giggling and laughing from the kitchen echo,
through otherwise silent and abundant ‘walls and curtains',
The moving of glasses, plates, bowls and happy minds,
The opening and closing of micro wave oven of,
Past year's stories to the updat of the current events,
The baking of sweet fragrant vanilla cakes and pies,
The mother and the children at the kitchen, living room,
Prayer room and even in their bed rooms,
I, as usual mind my business of tending of garden and the home,
The house becomes quiet again, when the working children leave,
When I ask my suddenly bloomed wife of two days,
To bring a glass of water, she turns and looks at me,
Oh! that shrunken apple! She tells she is too tired,
Oh! My children! Please tell me the secrets with no frills,
What do you have to make my wife so happy and thrilled?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Added by Poetry Lover
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