The Broken Home

I was waiting in the corridors,

Jostling with the ring in my finger.

I saw her from a distance, my sweety,

Holding her mother’s hand,

Beaming her smile at me,

She took me in her tiny arms.

They were waiting for us,

To sign the papers,

And formally ink,

Our parted ways.

 

As we walked unhurriedly,

Her rather firm grip,

Was tugging us back repeatedly,

Her mother and me.

 

We saw her fading smile,

Let’s give it another chance, reconcile,

And end this strife,

Thought me and my wife.

 

'Coz our daughter’s smile is bigger than our ego!

It fixed our broken home.