I talk about “Women”,
never her hands are toom.
For any task, she is chosen,
Even stepped into the moon
“Women” are phenomenal ,
enslaved of their own dwelling.
Cooking, mending, tiding the house,
regardless, a sunny day or hailing.
Tedious is a “woman’s” life,
owns a list with breathless pace.
Repairing the torn, stimulating the born,
indication to elevate them in every case.
A “woman” is stronger than the bones,
sensitive than the nerves,
flexible than the tendons,
more remedial than the herbs.
Every hand was occupied,
if they were given ten.
Occasionally ,she even lied,
whilst, the list was not mentained.
Unwed or unhitched,
singles are rather swamped.
It’s a boon to all “women”,
Work shadows them with a lamp.