Growth

Lady with a Golden Touch

Once there lived a lady,

Lady with a golden touch

Grounds would go fertile,

Bare trees green

When she laid her hands on something lean.

All her glory,

All her splendor —

She was oblivious to this perfection.

The world may not greet,

The foul incognizant

Yet, the mosaic she rose,

Ceilings she shattered,

Cry of her magnificence,

Preserve her impression…

Written for my sister’s birthday who has set such high standards that an ordinary woman like me has to crane my neck for just getting acquainted. After her, these lines are dedicated to all the wonderful women out there who have paved the way for us to foray into the erstwhile ‘unentered’ zones, who broke the glass ceilings so hard that their echo still resonates in the air.