Feeds

Garlands on the door that were hanging, The din of musical instruments banging, Announced a grand function in the house, That was to bring in a beautiful new spouse, To none other than the man, with whom I wed, And spent many blissful nights on his bed. Now I stand alone outside the door locked, With my head hung low for being mocked. 'What use to me is a woman so infertile?' Reckless and ruthless, he turned but not servile. "Lord! Will locked doors open on us ever, And teach men, ties are not made to sever?"