How earnest is that, maker’s love
Who sowed a soul, in a lump of clay?
And made father, fit a man like a glove
Whose girl would leave him, miles away?
If angels are far-fetched, my poesy wasn’t any less
Oh! So poles apart, from boyhoods, her cares and caress
She sprouted from my heart, like a virgin song of spring
And thrived thru my soul, a lass lost, in a lusting fling
Gone are those days, of frocks and dolls
Oh! I lost my toy, to a blossoming dream
Now her menses pay, her blushes’ tolls
O’er a riotous heart, twin breasts now scream
“A daughter’s a mother reborn!” how right, and wrong, were they!
Stares at me, now that question mark, overwhelmed with, newfound shame
Who’s chiseled this elegant essay, where’s lost my poesy, I daresay!
See, hard-poised amid a father and man, When A Woman, She Became
© 2016 Vikas Chandra