The alarm rang at five
Drowsily, she rubbed the eyes.
Trying hard to leave the bed
Limping like a zombie, dead.
She woke up to the blanket of darkness
Unwilling to move that day, I guess.
The world around was still asleep
For her, the morning was a bit bleak
She knew she had no time to be meek.
Furbishing herself, she tightened up her belt
Tied up to the chores, she usually dealt.
Finishing her work, drained, she felt.
With aching body, that haggard lady
Glossed herself and got ready.
She reached her workplace, engaged in her work
''How are you so perfect madam? '' , complimented a clerk.
Screaming, Screeching, Struggling, inside
She genuinely passed a twinkling smile.
Confidently, she presented her slides
Excellent! The boss replied.
Tired soul, back to her place
Greeted everyone with a smiling face.
The day was hard, she was in pain
Resting thoughts, all in vain.
People at home were waiting for food
She prepared it all without being rude.
"It's not my favorite dish"
"It's not what I wish".
On hearing this, she got engaged
At her agitation, she was amazed.
She felt sorry for losing the patience
She couldn't help, these mood fluctuations.
Happens this time, she had somewhere read
Still prepared the dessert, before going to bed.
Took her pills and slept in her room , as she came
The next day was going to be the same.
It's the story of every other dame.
She works more than the body allows , for sure.
In deeds she's praiseworthy and in body she's pure.
A typewriter lay in the corner,Reminding of old thoughts and yonder,It had memories,Of old or golden stories.I knew my dad used those,To type letters or prose,He wrote love letters to my mother,And stories to reporters.It lay in the dustAnd had got rust.After my dad’s death,His