More of Tagore’s Chitra in jeans
I am no Shakuntala amidst the vines.
Goddess Klutz who cries on a whim,
I cut the bough on which I perch.

Feminine grace eludes me,
galloping horses enchant me more.
A ring in gold with a diamond set
sends me packing to the next planet.

I refuse to be your “fairer” friend
for I am not fair and more a foe.
Thoughts and talks over endless tea,
in dirty pyjamas are more my style.

Sunshine and flowers, children and play
I love them with a passion you’d never know;
Love me and my hearts are yours,
(Yes, I have many hearts, didn’t you know?).


5 thoughts on “Mismatched

  1. Loved this.. aren’t we all fragments all tied into one. I had to use Google to find your reference. I now have a play to read in my spare time.. Awesome write..

    Cheers~~ Jen

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