Still, I Do Nothing

Morning bell rings at 5am,

With pain in hills,

That refuses to touch the floor,

Pain in the back,

That struggles to stand erect,

And the eyes holding tight,

Both the eyelashes,

But one hand starts,

Pushing toothbrush into the mouth,

Other one starts,

Sweeping the floor taking broom.

Legs increase their speed,

With the growing day,

Hands busy making,

Delicious food for the family,

Washing clothes,

Taking care of children,

Better half, guardian, guests etc.

Putting pain and self-care aside,

Rarely find some minutes,

To relax body and mind,

Even in the sunny midday.

A restless evening comes,

With a knock of tea,

With some homemade snacks,

Forwarding a task,

Towards the children's study table,

Trying to set and fit,

The drowsy eyeballs,

Into the books of kids.

Then preparing,

A suitable dinner,

Washing dishes,

Making beds,

Lastly comes a sleepy night,

In the tired darkness.

Still each day,

I have to hear,

The same words,

I am a housewife,

I do nothing,

Except,

Just cooking,

And laying and relaxing,

At home.