She smiled in the mirror
while braiding her hair
with fair daisies.
She pinned them tightly
then draped on her
Rosy-pink saree like in 1980s.
Her face gleamed with joy
The kohl in her doe-eyes
Was a reason to many broken-hearted cries.
The pink lily talcum perfumed her cheeks
I look at her fondly
as Amma walks past me
like a summer breeze.
Into Words 