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Poem

Her eyes swelled and swelled
With bitter tears
That lingered near...
She stood there and not here
Since she thought
It was better to cry, than to try to fly
Into the fantasies ought
To have held on
Rather, just watch and let go!

Her knees fled free
And rooted to the ground like a tree,
Maybe it was just, for her to feel
Nothing but sweet-dark shame
Because she didn't strive for fame
But rather, the pain of an unwanted seed
In a husk- a navelled pouch...

Her dry lips 
Foretold the cold-fire of distress
That brisked much, more less
Like a tale of Dorothy
Clad in a red dress
We guess... As said
That she was graced in the right place
But blessed in a wrong time
With something else!

Her mind 
Keeps bitter regret
For it lives, never to forget
Her raging calm-storm
As she keeps fighting on
While feeding on corn...
And sees herself yawn,
The more, she swore
Not to kill the seed, that was yet to be born!

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