My Eighteenth BirthdayMature

My Eighteenth Birthday

My uncle did ring,

To wish me happy birthday,

The conversation he opened,

With the birthday greeting,

So automatically did I,

Wish him happy birthday back.

 

My cousin then,

To my stepmother said,

He wouldn't wish me happy birthday,

As I would,

Wish it him back,

And we all laughed.

 

Feeling guilty,

I confided to my stepmother,

My treatment of my mom,

In brief of course,

Not mentioning the true extent,

Of my violence towards mom.

 

Then did I make a promise,

That I regarded as sacred,

To be grateful and considerate to mom,

And my stepmother,

She took me by surprise,

By giving me a huge hug,

Evoking from me,

A burst of pure passion,

A rush of emotion.

 

It was so wonderful,

To the shop we went,

And purchased a chocolate cake,

And there I saw,

A cake iced with Semanti's name,

And that afternoon,

We cut it and ate it.

 

I remember the colours,

Of the very clothing,

Aunt Premala and Semanti,

They wore.

I danced with my stepsister,

And sang a Hindi song,

My dad and stepmother,

They did join the dance.

 

My stepmother,

She had her hair down,

Which suited her better,

A beautiful yellow sari,

Did she wear on my birthday,

And dad, a sky blue shirt,

The dance dad photographed,

With digital camera on auto.

 

I still recall,

My stepmother's wet hair,

Hanging down after she washed it,

The very rose fragrance,

Of the shampoo she used,

This was the first visit,

There have been two more since,

Yet I remember each,

So vividly, so exactly, so precisely.

The End

120 comments about this poem Feed