BESTOWING

How eternal was her pain,
While donating her daughter!
As if she was her last asset.

The girl was not mature enough
Yet was so girlish and easy,
That she could glimpse happiness
But was not capable of judging pain
She was a reader in fading light
Of few reasons and few eyes.

Mother said, looking into water
Don't fascinate on your face.
Fire is meant to cook
Not to burn.
Clothes and jewellery like literal illusion
Are bonds in a lady's life.

Mother said, be a girl
But don't look like a girl.


-Adapted