Those were the days
When there was neither stress nor strain
And I used to enjoy my journeys by train.
There were no weather-etched faces
Or the pains and aches of livelihood
Though all women cooked with firewood.
By the fireplace, the nuts were roasting
And bursting with the beauty of sounds
Enticing our attention to our gowns.
My grandmother related stiries superb
Conjured by her creative imagination
Of Christ and his crucifixion.
No one was brutalized or ostracized.
We were all so happy and content
And our actions were of good intent.
We celebrated unabashedly the wedding
Of our dolls dressed in blue and pink,
The beauty of which cannot be written in ink.
We lived authentically and happily.
While our mothers cooked the food,
We played joyfully in the woods.