Thorns And Syrup

By Vishakha Choudhary

Too little pepper,

Are you a novice?

Still in the bed,

It’s past sunrise.

Please find me food,

Clothes, wallet, and tea,

Your thorns spoil the mood,

Only syrup befits the bee.

Hard is the work,

That pays for your leisure,

So devoted a husband,

Do you even treasure?

There’s the legendary snark,

Bereft of toil and accomplishment,

Marks cast on stone,

Waves wash the nourishment.

It is the silence,

That paves his story,

A thousand candles extinguish,

Sacrifice of her glory.

By Vishakha Choudhary