She hides behind her drink in a gathering,
Casting shy glances at laughing faces,
She may have known in her youth,
The era when sleeveless blouse,
Hung on slim arms,
Waist squeezed tight in flares, bell-botts,
Hair piled high or gathered to the side,
Pictures clicked in black & white,
There was a man by her side.
He eyed her from across the room,
Always watching what she was up to,
Her laugh rang out loud,
A woman much loved and cherished,
Now, she sits in a corner,
Exchanging hello’s, funny stories from before,
When he was alive.
She reminisces them all,
A little envious to watch his friends and their wives,
Savouring their retired lives,
For her every day is a struggle,
No one asks,
If she has taken her medicine,
If her swollen feet are better now,
The body is fine but the heart aches.
Thirty-two years of togetherness,
Now seem a waste,
He should have been here,
So much has come to pass,
Age hasn’t made her any less vulnerable,
The life of a widow is all about time,
Plenty of it, mostly lonely,
Till she fades away...soon, she often hopes.