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Twenty-one strands of lemon grass, Each meshing with the other that shields Two handfuls of nascent feathers, Fresh green curtains hiding Afternoon ceaseless sunbeams.
As my head bends to look down, Her momma swiftly arrives with a flair, A flash of Rani Lakshmi Bai Riding on a winged horse, A sword under grey belt.
A solar glare that surrounds a new moon, Giving me a brazen side-eye. Turquoise necklace gleams, As she glowers up at me.
She shuffles her tail feathers, (I hear knuckles crack) As if preparing for a war, She discards her 'adhar card',
Without her allowance That we printed and sold, Only if we pinned it to Tattered crimson shirts, our own.
I contemplate as I say (in my head) 'Some nerve you have, Forget, did you ? Who this house belongs to ? A non-paying guest uninvited pest, Advance and rent overdue, What about the maintenance ?
My lemongrass wilts, kneels tired Of your constant restless flittering, And a string of incessant grunts. What are you so discontent about ? Your little nest ain't cozy enough ? Maybe I should add a queen size bed For you to nestle your babies. (Who on a single tire of twig mattress today sleeps ?) Or an air conditioner perhaps ? (The dense coats you have to wear In this cruel humidity) No ? You just want privacy, ha ?! (Since too much to ask is the privilege of safety)
When you fly away, ungrateful, Because you have wings, My mom has to clean the yucky remains Of which you didn't bother to clean.
Her nose grows red, As she curses you the nth time. You left a sneezy little gift for her, I must say, how very kind !
Is this how you say thank you For letting your nuisance a space? Why do you keep coming back ? We don't want to see you again !
I adore my lemongrass more, Its so beautiful, you see. But even though pesky as you are You do have cute little chicks. But they will grow old like you, I will detest them then every bit.
Right now though, I will stand here, And find some kinship of a kind In you as I watch you on guard, A silent threat lingering in your eyes.
Well, you glare like my mother When you are defending your kids, Perhaps I might have to relent, A growing fondness is starting to creep.'
A/N:- Just wanted to say, I didn't count the lemongrass leave stalks, I had actually gone by the window to count but noticed the babies and before I could even raise my hand to count them, the mother flew to her nest and the rest is history. p.s.: Let's just assume there are 21 stalks ;))
