(A conversation between two sisters… Both of them were very close as kids and then one of them got married… Both of them are meeting after years… This poem is from the point of view of the unmarried sister…)
Folding his linen polishing his silver
But why are your sleeves wet sister?
Oh sister I watch you all grown up
Washing his dishes cleaning his house
Dusting his things mopping his floor
You missed that spot on the floor sister
Mop it up sister
A dark stain on the spotless marble floor
It wasn’t meant to be seen.
I see you sister all grown up
Folding his linen polishing his silver
Sewing his buttons ironing his pants
But why are your sleeves wet sister?
Dry them up sister
The tear stained sleeves look sloppy on your freshly starched dress
It wasn’t meant to be seen.
My capable sister’s all spruced up
He’s taking you out tonight
The house is clean all chores are done
But why are you dressed like a nun sister?
Change your dress sister
You are hiding your beautiful skin sister as if
It wasn’t meant to be seen.
The clock is ticking close
He will come home any time now
And you sit at the mirror and wait
But why do your eyes shine sister?
Blink them once sister
They reflect the diamond noose around your neck
It wasn’t meant to be seen.
The door closes behind you
I am left alone in this house of dark
Not a ray of light pitch black
But why do I see everything so clearly sister
I can see it all
There’s that stain of silent screams which you tried to hide from me
It wasn’t meant to be seen.
(Here the spirit of the dead sister turns away in tears and fades into the infinite blackness…)
