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familiar with ordinariness in
undistinguished times,
aged simplema takes baby steps
to the church
she has adorned
from times ago.
thought has laid pathways in
a thick top of hair.
a laugh,
a touch of friends
shrinks the webwork on her face.
dropping two grand-daughters
at the school she read,
simplema rests with the bible
entire afternoons.
opening,
shutting the book,
she wanders the jamun
curtaining the window of
her corner room,
from an wooden armchair.
in the evening
brings them home,
feeds them,
shares cartoon network,
hands them  to her daughter
toiling at a superstore.
retires to bed under the cross
waiting to be crossed.