Your tresses are not smooth and silky
Lady..you have got grey hair!!
Your skin is breaking
There are lines on your forehead.
Why you are so skinny?
Don't you eat well...


You don't seem pristine,
Just look at your ravishing friend.

Yes...i do agree to the above delineation
But ...you don't know many facts.

That I was wide-awake uncountable nights
for my little ones,
Be it the school project or making that perfect attire for my princess's fancy dress
Or those sleepless nights with ear ache , fever or growing pains.

I have sometimes heard you talking about me from behind.
But have that golden heart to come and know my plight....
I would share with you the story of my pale visage
As  I have always loved my family more before self.

Ageing is a natural phenomena
Come to me I will guide you
Know that those lines and silver strands are signs of my eternal beauty,
But I can't blame your ignorance,as it is known by few.

Bina Mukherjee

The sun says just as much in its presence as in its absence
A beautiful escape from the sky
How could endings be so graceful?
As the fire goes out, the passion dies
I lay here believing that there’s more out here
In the dark, there is still light
In the night, stars come out
They are much brighter, much more genuine than our inventions  
Artificial could never replace the real thing
Although the sunset is beautiful and the night of stars are beautiful,
There is always some awful grey in between

As with the wind’s cold reminder,
as with the new leaf’s shock,
we remember when we are

This grey overcoat holds sway
but in its way, familiar
and fitting

The technicolour
glitz of balmy days
failed to keep us captive

Rattle on your prison bars today
and swing low
for unsure tomorrows

Have you ever heard the sound of nothing?
A desolating sunbeam hitting the ground
Each individual on the hunt for something
Yet, nothing can be found.

The trees feel lonely,
They meet the sky for a chat.
They beg for money,
But the sky gets nothing back.

Together, the world turns grey.
The smell of death starts to cover the streets
While they all stand and wait
We just stay inside and try to fall asleep.

She was teacups made of China
and sunny spring afternoons.

She was soup
on the stove
when it was raining and grey
outside.

She was the gentle touch
of a birds feather
landing on my nose.

She was comfort in its essence,
and I hope to never lose her.