poem 16

maid

she swept neat the floor of the big house,
where from each tile the face of her son beamed.
'left alone at home, would he be crying for me?
ah! if only I could wipe the tear from his cheeks
and sweat from his forehead rather than this floor.'

she put out the clothes in the sun to dry.
the colour reminded her of the red frock
she saw through the glasses at the blue shop.
'should I ask for an advance or wait for month-end;
but my daughter's birthday can't wait no?

'it is so hot this year and then the damned powercuts,
why did they have to cut down the neem tree
that gave shade to her hut?
the children suffer so much during the afternoon!'
she thought while dusting the ceiling and the fans.

'two potatoes and handful of lentils is all that is left,
the children would ask for curry again.
three times he forgot,maybe he is saying the truth
or has he been drinking my Lord !'

her hands, feet and her body were here at her master's house,
busy working tirelessly and well.
her mind's compass though pointed to her small home
and he attention concerntrated on her family above all.