Quest

The rusted swing creaked
The faded, moth eaten cushions
Smelt of musty life; well treaded
Cardamom tea was freshly brewed however..

The morn was flush with a February breeze
The papers screamed nothing ,for a change;
She sighed, the prawns had to be bought
A partner lost to the daily dose of drugs..

The routine never broke down,
The aquamarine bandhini saree gave her steps a turn
The irrepressible spirit of a girl
Encased in womanly cages of a septuagenarian!

Neighbours were more than blood
The grocer, a fellow philosopher
The chatwallah ,a kindred soul
Life was matchless truly

Chequered with the sheer
Of a negligee, with the obtuseness
Of dastardly feelings, the tantalising
teases , the enchantment tugs forever!