By Sheetal Srivastava
A woman of around 80 years sits on a wooden chair,
She is lean, short but full of grace.
Beauty cannot be personified if we look at her —
Oh God, what a masterpiece, looks like a woman of gold, soft but pure.
I lean to ask her how her past eight years have been like,
Without her man whom she adored and missed dearly.
A tear falls from her eyes, depicting the foundation of love and memories.
She smiles in pain, recalls how her past 50 years have been confined in a single room.
Arthritis took away her ability to walk without support but not her zeal,
How that one person stood all through her life by her side, taking immense care of her.
She starts telling stories about how they met, fell in love,
How she left everything to be with him, and how wonderfully he returned it back to her.
Always remained by her side, loved and cherished her.
I no longer have doubts — she found solace in her friend, her calm in chaos.
And she says, “May you too.” All I do is look at her and smile.