Living In, Wearing Out

The bed is nicely done, sheets are in Persian silk.
But the side table does not have nappies, nor lukewarm bottles of milk.

The drapes are bright red, the cushions the perfect green.
Only a pair of moving morning shadows, not nothingness, its serene.

A wall for our family photos, the showy umbilical bit.
Frozen smiles, captured at a time, while they were still at it.

I love my cane rocking chair, he does not like it much.
We don't have Grand-dads and Grannies, fighting for it as such.

Cooking is always a cake walk, Pasta, Pizza and all.
But it took a Sunday and Sanjeev Kapoor, to teach me Ma ki dal

Dissents are not perennial, but if we ever have a strife;
I get to end it easily - 'Don't shout, I'm not your wife'.

I am happy in my autonomy, my issues, i do decide.
I practically have a husband, always by my side!

We tailor-made matrimony, to keep 'bliss' sans the vows.
No liability, least accountability, as each other we espouse.

A life of chosen conveniences and i m glad I remain a 'Miss.'
Yet as Life in living is perfect, somethings are amiss.