Notes About The Poem
This little poem is written on old Indian prespective, It is intended to put some fun in life,
My Wife
Whether I got married by my choice of courtship and romance,
Or given an unknown bride with arraigned marriage,
In the end, I get a wife, sincere, devoted, caring and loving.
The time takes toll,
The bright sun sparkling beauty turns into charming moon-faced doll,
The discussions and arguments begin, she turns into a volcanic rock.
An old Indian proverb says,
two water clay pitchers put together rub against each other,
A discussion dictates what’s right, arguments points who is wrong.
A marriage between two strangers,
IS to make some one imperfect into a perfect being,
Although a good concept, does not work until both amend.
A few times, she will complain,
I cook and clean all the time, today it is your turn,
All excited I cook, she takes a bite, and dumps everything in trash,
Now I am barred even ever thinking of cooking again,
A few times, I will be dragged to her shopping spree,
Buy this, buy that, does this dress look pretty?
After a few likes and dislikes, she makes her own choice,
Lesson learnt, just being together makes her happy.
A few times, she loves to buy an expensive item,
She will say you don’t worry, I will charge on my account,
When the bill comes, she says you have the money, you pay,
Despite all the little skirmishes,
She likes and loves me from the core of her heart,
Mutual support and respect will survive the marriage.
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