Folly Of A Woman! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Poem by lalitha iyer

I was young
He loved me well
I gave my body
flesh all fresh

the breasts were lovely
the thighs were sweet
everything was
enough for a treat

I thought he loved me
he needed me
for the lovely shapes

I needed him
he was a man to take
me along the lands unknown
and give me hand
when the unsure mind stemmed

When young a man's desire is painted clear
but, wonder what the maid seeks
but for her folly, nothing does he speaks

his words are not wisdom
his acts are not kingly
he is as much poor
as the maid to his core

she bears better weight
and really faces the tight
when she kisses
not him, but delivery stresses

She brings the babies
give them sweetness
when she cries
she teaches them wisdom
when she failed to pass her own

Now, when he is past prime
I have nothing to spare
if he something ask dare

my body is realised
my mind fully piled
what is in his love
that only strokes my flesh with filth;

let him prove his affection
by cooking my favourite collection;
let him prove his love
by washing my dresses dirty
and smiling at me saintly.