Embroiled in ragged comfort,
many riches bore her eyes.
Vicariously studying, voraciously voicing – for
tiny little trinkets that fall on her side.
Pick the man; Pick the woman – she
made the deal with god on her lips.
Like butterflies they swarmed;
Like butterflies they flew – into the mystic chaos.
Smiling, laughing, lazing and gazing;
Never a care, albeit enjoying the summer snare.
Colorful walking dresses, all they were,
and one sole man with a cold black stare.
A forgotten swagger.
Said: “Path of the fulfilling, place of the prospering;
Lives so wretched with despair and chaos”.
Tho’ mind with zest and heart with a care;
Always a sneer, and the summer lay bare.
The call of duty and his renaissance stare;
Black, dapper, a forgotten swagger.
Solemn, trance, conscientious pride.
Thus fell a trinket on her uncaring side.
– Tipu Vaithee Swaran