Recalls, ain’t clothes, left on, a rusting hook
Nor, motley magpies, who coo, not in cage
What matters, most, is, what time took
To the hurt, of heart, and, soul’s outrage!

Who deflowered, a, virgin dream
Left blasély, by the, window sill
A sweet art, made of, care and cream
Was never, meant for, a surrogate fill!

To repay, today, what was, then lost
Is a parody, of, her tragedy
Beyond, a pain, who paid, joy’s cost
With a, never forgotten, malady!

It may, sound kind, it may, seem chic
How a, broken dream, can you, ever make
It is, indeed, America’s, PR, oblique
You Can’t, Re-Bake, A Stolen Cake!

© 2022 Vikas Chandra