In celebration of being a woman


Slowly she picks up her way,
walking with her silver anklets,
her hair tied in a loose bun,
her ears decked with shiny trinkets..

Her brown skin, showing off,
around her waist, as she walks,
a bright saree she draped,
her voluptuous curves it chalks..

All the day, she plods at home,
cooking, cleaning and caring,
humming cheerfully all along,
no matter howsoever wearing..

She wakes up in the morning,
a dutiful housewife she's then,
cooks and feeds like a mother,
to her man and her children..

Picks up groceries and goods,
with a neatly planned budget,
like a minister of finance,
though not aware of the subject..

When she puts her child to bed,
at night she sings lullabies,
then to her man she delights,
melting away all her shies..


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