Sunday, March 29, 2009


We had planned everything
Down to the last ‘e’
Or is it ‘t’?
Nothing else was questionable
Or in doubt.
His admission papers
The fees,
Even a new motorbike
Which he so desired
Synonymous with his freedom.

His clothes all packed
He was ready to go
A rider on his steed
Bidding goodbye with a smile
And a shake of his golden locks
Which he grew long
An indulgence of youth.

We were well prepared.
We turned away to stem
The tide waiting
To burst its banks.
I did not wish him to see me cry
Or wipe a tear from my husband’s eye.

Abha Iyengar
(first published in poetsonline)

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