My Charming gardener. Poem by Nabakishore Dash

My better half is my
charming gardener,
listens to happiness and woes
with utmost patience,
tries to convince my soul,
how to deal with brawl,
selects my clothes,
caters to the needs of
our daughters and others,
chooses my diet,
cooks them with her
love at heart even if
she sweats profusely
in the heat of the stoves.

She is my beloved,
faithful friend,
guide, mentor,
financial booster,
of course never a leg puller.
If I deviate, she does not mind
when infrequently I ignore.

Her caustic words,
at times, pinch my heart
much more than
hundreds sharp needles,
mind turns off.
My mood makes her realize
the agony that torments me.
She feels this within a short
interval, initiates compromise
by a warm embrace.
When I ask her the reason behind, she intelligently says
that her class mates used
to call her a coconut,
hard out side, but sweet inside,
as sacred as the coconut.
She behaves a coconut
to seal me away from
some deceivers and distractors.
If she were not hard,
like the endocarp of coconut,
I would have trodden
the forbidden road.

A constant question
very often asked me is
the taste of food on table.
My answer is invariably positive,
sometimes even without eating,
explained her that aroma,
color and a good sense make
every items tasty,
but she is never amendable.

When we fall sick
she is extremely worried,
remains busy consulting
doctors, arranging medicines,
always remains with us,
in good and bad times,
makes simple and easy
our lives,
very tough to fill the voids
when she goes away temporarily
in response to pressures
in social strife.