A Perfect Mate Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

From the first floor window
Sadly noticed her age showing

The moon striations martian canals
Cutting her face
Scarring her youth
That day and night
Being around her like a satellite

I missed.

I was too close
As rose the marks
Expanding imprinting devouring
Shaping her
In time

To be the perfectly aged woman!
Perfectly aged
I saw myself in the mirror
And knew
I too now could lay my claim
To be her perfect mate!