The Red Saree

I swept and mopped,
My face; The floor.

Searched for the concealer
for the sleepless nights.
Mirror stared at me-
I recalled the day,
Crow landed on my face.
Rivulets on my cheek,
Found way to my sagging breasts
splitting into a million capillaries.

I wore a tight bra,
To smoothen my stretched organ.
Draped the Red Saree
over the golden blouse.
Knew it'd arouse.

Tugged the saree
Below the navel.
Noticed the thorns,
curling all around.
Pulled the costume,
an inch or two.

The bird chirped;
I opened the door.
Saw a girl in red,
her hand around,
a familiar neck.

This man I shared bed with,
for thirty odd years,
had found another red saree.