A woman is expected to cast herself in his image
His soft words carry uncompromising stance
Her imagination surpasses
the most diffusive of molecules:
Close to her chest she has held his lovely babe ;
She’s spun the web of petty fights and amusingly
had him come for patch up
In colorful robes she’s clad herself-
the sole butterfly in his garden.
But she forgets she’s none less than merchandise
the tired vendor has a thousand things
to fold and put back.