Monday, August 1, 2022

PAROMITA MUKHERJEE OJHA

 


Home That Was…..

 

Their love transitioned

From fire to cold

Blissful days of old

Unbridled laughter, coy glances

Stolen moments of bliss

Those burning kisses

Till lips turned incandescent

Turned now into

 Memories of past decadent

The stars in their eyes no more twinkle

Choked by the marital girdle

The moon of their hearts

Lies wane and wrinkled

The weary blues of conjugal life

The burden of being man and wife

Emotions lay rotting

At the altar of daily grind

To build their home

She left her family and career behind

He however had his career pre-defined

She-being the wife had to

Have her ambitions re-aligned

Her paints and canvas lost sheen

In the struggle of marital din

Be a dutiful wife, responsible wife

The extended family did daily remind

‘You should have done this, you did not do that’

Home is built by a real woman not a bohemian upstart.

Relentless were the snide

He thought, she should understand

After all wasn’t she his bride ?

He worked hard to give her

A fulfilling life.

The light of their romance

Furtively dimmed

Hopes fled, gossamer dreams trimmed

Love lay hanging chagrined.

Weighed down with chains

Hands of hope extended, then did rescind

Threadbare love still clung

In the frozen hearts

 So they continued their marital tread

Holding the rattle of their

Broken dreams

Each willing that buried passion

Would once more

Dance in their lives in gay abandon

Hope would burst forth

Blessing their hearts and hearth.

Their lost dreams would build from the start.

© Dr Paromita Mukherjee Ojha

 

 

PAROMITA MUKHERJEE OJHA


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