• love_whispererr 9w

    WHEN THE SPITTING IMAGE GRINS


    Everynight, I open the
    box of my grandmother
    to wear her earrings
    and anklets secretly,
    and to feel the woman's
    beauty and grace
    on the pedestal of
    some slender reveries.


    I wear the earrings and
    look at the mirror
    while the youth of my
    grandmother waves to me,
    I feel shy when the long
    earrings abut my clavicle
    but a demure chuckle infests
    on my face with glee.


    I wear the vintage old
    anklet and its tinkling
    pervades inside the oblivion
    of my womanhood,
    and a breathless woman
    unclasps my soul
    to melt inside the arbour
    of umbrageous wood.


    The elegance I carry
    near the womenfolk
    and the blooms I commence
    with some peepers ;
    not that diffidence I hold,
    a dignity my breath follows
    not that timidity I restore,
    the strength I conclude.


    And standing behind
    the curtain of the room
    my father watches his late mother
    less through the jhumkas
    more through my hazel eyes
    less through the paayals
    more through my youthful smile

    And the spring chortles behind the scene.


    ~I was growing as a strong woman
    through the wedges of an overgrown sun.


    ©bidya

    #growth #wod #brightshadesbybidya

    Thank you so much @writersnetwork ��

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    ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴘɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ɢʀɪɴꜱ