Ode to a Seamstress

O great one, wielding the needle and thread
no one that I more value or dread
In your nifty hands the power lays
to make or mar my important days

I dream of wearing a saree pink
"the job will be done", you assure me with a wink
Days are spent imagining
looks and glances admiring
I drop in on the promised day
with a spring in my step and heart so gay
"About the pink," you say with a sympathetic air
"that's not done ... but to you I'll be fair
you can take the yellow you gave last week"
I swallow my curses and return helpless and meek
But my plans for the day take a complete hit
when the one you stitched is so ill-fit
I grumble, I pull, I struggle a ton
defeated, I walk out wearing an old one

To never give you anything again I vow
but alas, to the indispensable tailor I have to bow
Hesitatingly, I approach you with no other go
and then with your unpredictable skill you amaze me so
Compliments abound, "Your dress is perfect"
makes me wonder, was misjudging you my defect

And so it goes on ...our trysts of love and hate
because inevitably in an Indian girl's fate
The one with the scissors, tape and sewing machine
simply has the power to make her look and feel like a queen!