there in my thatched homesteadwith a pinewood chip’s flickering light
my homemaker would be waiting with
a bowl of rice and stewed mustard leaves
and a few roasted dry fish beside the bowl
she would be waiting in the twilight.
by the hillside after a day’s farm work
with a smile on her wrinkled face
she would be dreaming of her long gone youth
how she would yarn my arduous courting
when i reach my warm hearth by the hillside
among the singing bamboo groves.
though this eve is chilling and cruel
i return with her memories surrounding me
my loincloth though threadbare keeps me warm
my attention arrested by the venus in the sky
my chapped lips shivering in the darkness
i murmur to myself – i am coming back my love .
© milan rajkumar
6 jan 15.
her pink cheeks
glows like a chipped pine torch
photo ( subir ningthouja) and words :