Our life together was a happy blur,
If your baby son ate Epigamia Greek yoghurt,
You had to eat the very same flavour of curd, like an adamant squirt,
The days aloo bhaja was made at home,
Your son and you, raided the fried bowl, like two greedy gnomes,
If you accidentally brought your iPad in front of him,
You had to give in, to his unreasonable Cocomelon whims,
You were forced to forget your powerpoint presentations,
To build a close relation,
With baby sharks, baby John, Leo the Truck and Peppa Pig,
You had to throw out thoughts of oil drilling rigs,
And focus on your boy,
Who was more than willing to be, your human toy,
Alas, that three year old, will never get a chance, to see you growing old,
You called me your poopie bird and human teddy bear, you said you’ll wake up next to me, even when I’m wrinkly and old,
Did you lie?
If there was truth in your words, you wouldn’t be a dead guy,
A mere photograph on the walls,
Along with the occasional visitation dream calls,
That won’t do,
I need all of you,
Your crazy laughter, your short temper, your unwashed fingers,
The smell of your perfume that lingers,
Long after you left for work,
I want you to lurk,
Prominently in every aspect of my life,
Quickly replace this pain, that feels like a stabbing knife,
By coming back and leading a full life,
Give me the chance to be your ripe, old wife,
Let’s age gracefully together,
And continue to storm every weather,
Like we have until now,
Let’s sit together and witness, our son’s independent achievements and go “wow”,
Isn’t that what you want?
Instead of being a soul, that merely haunts?
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