Splintering Life

Woman flows like a river. As the each drop of the water Joins with the river, With the variation of the Colour in it’s combination, The wonts and passions Shapes her. The new saplings That flow from the Inhalation of woman Just similar to The birds and plants Forms from the breath Of the nature. Like the small particle of soil And the rough, tough And hard rock That exist against the river In it’s path of happiness, Stalemate and hardship Covers and efface her. When she tries and succeeds To counter attack all her obstacles. In a way a child splinter flowers She is being spoiled But by a brutish heart. Her ruin is etched On the core of her bosom As the greatest waterloo In her womanhood. The womanly wealth That she was being weaving With gentle golden And silver threads has lopped. The placidly glowing eyes and the churned heart had been eradicated. Even the resistance Remains in her eyes, Even the will of return Lasts in her face, Even the hope of tomorrow Reverberate in her lips, Her womanly lilt of life Hidden in the cloud melted down And ragged like the leaf That fall on the sharp thorns.