Birds are setting off
In the rising autumn mist
Big or small, high or low
Swaying merrily in pairs
Enjoying freedom at its best
But, here I pace back and forth
Like a prisoner
Under a thatched roof of yours-
Cursing the fate, sucking
On a bitter life to reconcile
Every night
I duck into a pile of sorrows
With heavy pain cramping my heart
Longing for your return-
From far off corners
The year is almost to its end
And how could you forsake me?
In this dry land of strangers
At this tender state of our wedlock
I stand on the sacrifices
That my father made for a daughter
And I have no place left to go
But if I had known the shackles
-Of a wedded life
I would have remained alone
As usual in the outer room
Of my father’s house, where-
I felt safe to sleep
© Anie Mathew
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