When the first wife had been alive,
Never did he care about her,
Never did he sit with her with so much love,
All the time went he on
Nagging and bragging,
Neglecting and sidetracking her
And she a poor fellow
Went on bearing with,
Serving him
Like a gentleman
And now see you, after the death of her,
How does he keep oiling his second wife
Who keeps complaining of
The headache and sickness,
Tiredness and fatigue
And cooks he food,
Cleans the utensils,
Even washes her clothes
And what more to say?

When the first wife had been alive,
Never did he care about,
When the first wife had been alive,
Never did he call her a man,
Now after the death of his first wife,
How much has he changed
That keeps he pleasing her
Like a god,
How does he colour his hair and mustachio
After the death of his first wife,
Marrying for the second
And living with the secondly found new love
And that too somehow
And after her, may not be found again,
Hence, the worry?

Bijay Kant Dubey

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