SOUL-MIRROR

Soul-Mirror

When in my rosy teens, I asked him how I looked.
He held me at a distance and said he was wowed,
“Wowed” by my innocent visage and an enchanting smile

When in the honey-moon phase of marriage
I asked him how beautiful he found me
Ignoring words mere, he traced it out with his caring hands.

When in the expanding waist-line middle years
I repeated the same old question
Busy though he was, he pointed at our beautiful kids

When it was the stuttering-tottering final years
I lisped whether he found me beautiful still
He said in a jocular manner that he had left his glasses behind.

When I was lifeless and dead-still
My soul changed the question; asking, how ugly it looked.
A big tear-drop rolled down his cheeks to wash away all my sins