The Age of Innocence

jasmines adorned her soot hued hair

some dad’s little princess, wasn’t she?

a sari the pride of a cherry draped

carefree in cheap gold embroidery

faux gems serve to fill the void

a void ciphering into another

some mum’s dream come true alas

cat calls welcome her as she dares

to roam amongst the fortunate us

she is the queen of the streets

her strides, magnificent and bold

enchanting, enamoring, enticing

despite the weather so cold

‘if he were here, o if only he were here,

i would seldom walk one step more’

her thirst for love, an unfulfilled desire

her clothes are often torn apart

many a man has left his stench

but not one dares to steal her heart

‘won’t mum teach me to sew?

wont she come to purify –

the scents of sins stacked within?’

her eyes moisten reminiscing

the ghosts of an era bygone

yet she seeks a path; a fresh, raw path –

unexplored, holding promises galore

wiping her tears, she seeks to return;

a return to the Age of Innocence

‘dad, mum, where are you?

the hide n seek is past due

i wish no more to breathe

this stench of other’s sins

i want to smell the warmth

of the purest form of love

so, take me in your arms

as I end this wretched bond’,

so saying she ends her beat

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