Children come running as she returns from the textile-factory,
Entangling their tiny arms around her neck
In that split second, the efficient seamstress becomes mother- solely
When the door-bell rings a few hours later like harbinger of breezy purple dusks
With pink clouds floating in her heart she sprints to the door with a spring in her step 
For him, like a lovelorn teen 
When life throws tantrums of thunderclouds and rains
She shines like lightening, showing the path
When seasons are calm with sunshine spilling golden
She flows as poetry on paper, effortlessly…
 
Wearing her bright chintz sarees from local flea market
 After bidding goodbyes to her loved ones; seeing them off to school and workplace
As she locks the door, she pauses for a moment, near the flower garlands hanging for sale at her door, 
To admire tiny blossoms smiling, relish the feeling
Of meeting the challenges each day holds, of toiling hard to nurture her world, her soul, 
And she feels content, Rapt… in that moment at the threshold.