Fate Of The Wealthy Maiden

By Navneet Chaudhury

Basking in the meadows of serenity;

She had all, with the blessings of her paternity.

Clowns and performers entertained her through,

Yet nothing of beauty could she brew.

Binding her hopes like her braids,

Everything seemed dark, just like her shades.

All she noticed, just seemed to fade.

Her mind was conflicted, nothing now that she dreads.

She laid herself on cotton beds,

Couldn’t bat an eye to those rotten heads.

The one who never knew how to tie a lace,

Has to now walk the world at her own pace.

Hurdled by struggles unknown.

Sickness hundreds, to all of them was she prone.

Stubborn was she, to the bone,

Now she mops the floor for the crone.

By Navneet Chaudhury