The Tale of a Christmas Eve – A poem by Anuraag Baishya

She sat by the fireplace waiting,

For her husband’s returning.

It was Christmas Eve,

He would get an early leave.


She had laid the table,

Switched on the light cable.

The fire was warm,

There was a quite charm.


The doorbell rang,

Her heart sang.

She welcomed him in,

Away from the din.


He was surprised to see,

He exclaimed, “All this for me?”

She said, “Let’s celebrate this year.”

“Let there be no problems or fear.”


So they set to pray to Lord,

For all that they could afford.

Then they dined and made merry,

Without wine, just juice from berry.


“There’s more”, she said,

On the table she laid,

A small but perfect plum cake,

The very best she could bake.


The husband took a bite,

The taste was perfectly right.

His vision began to suddenly blur,

The floor seemed to be made of fur.


He fell to the ground,

His heart began to pound.

He felt an intense pain,

His head seemed tied to a chain.


As his life began to fade,

He asked, “What is this Jade?”

“This is for all that you put me through.”

“The hatred within me grew.”


“There isn’t a day you don’t torture me.”

“I am not your slave you see.”

“The poison is strong, don’t put up a fight.”

“Farewell dear husband, Goodnight.”

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