She writes gut-wrenching poems,
Makes her readers cry.
And also makes them smile,
With her witty comments.
All the while hiding all the pain,
In her lonely but strong heart.
She is a loyal friend and a fierce,
Protector of women’s rights.
Has a clear idea of right and wrong,
And doesn’t suffer fools gladly.
Jumps to her friend’s defence and
Lambasts the wrong- doer.
Hides behind oversized shirts,
Eats only when hungry,
Is an excellent cook.
But can make do with bhelpuri
Has an eccentric rice cooker,
They complement each other.
Temperamental to the core,
But beautiful inside out.
She loves her coffee, with milk,
But some days forgets to buy it
And is a lost case then.
Huh..What..how..are her pet questions,
In the absence of milk in her coffee.
She is a workaholic but refuses,
To work on Mondays and Fridays.
She is a computer geek
And brilliant at her job,
But ask her how she pulls out,
Mismatched socks, from the dryer,
Every time, one of each kind.
Small pleasures in life make her happy,
Like our early morning chats,
A glass of wine in the evenings,
Vicks vapour rub at night,
Zeenath her sweetheart, her car.
The scenery outside her window,
Reminds her of my love for colours.
She clicks wonderful snaps but,
Laments her phone’s camera.
Calls it her wannabe BB.
It’s a standing joke between us.
Her tagline is as original as her,
Everything that rhymes is not poetry.
Not just another madrasi,
That’s my friend,
Chokher Bali for you.
Lucks aka Sulekha