Glowing and fair-skinned
Shining with gold
She radiated freshness
My muthu malai pale in comparison
As I wiped the floor with beads of oily sweat
Adorned in soft silks and rich hues
She sat on her bed sharing reels
With her saree flowing down
Bent down as I reached to wipe
The fabric chafed me
Softness taunting me
I don’t share this bed
As her dignity matters
So this silent play with no third act
Continues as my agency is absent
For my coarse turmeric
can never match
Her chalky sandalwood
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