Dreams Come True Poem by Mandira Mitra

No use to cheat Nature
No use to pretend
I confess thirty winters
That I spent
Without knowing you,
Without knowing how completely
A woman is possessed,
In happiness and pain
Were rather spent in vain.

No use to keep waiting
Nothing is worth the wait
Neither e-mails, smses, telephone calls
Remotely compensate
What I must have now
Else it is too late.

Not the winter's misty sun
Nor December sweet
Nor the milky tears the moon
Weeps on the roses' feet
Neither meditation calms,
Nor are songs a balm,
Nor a lovely bedside smell
Of mother's boroline palm.
That includes all favorite things, that were before there were you-
If you are a dream,
Please come true.