Older Khanoom,
Eyes imploring,
Age eclipsing arrogance,
Sitting court.

Basket on her lap,
Shuffling through notes,
Of different denominations,

Admiration.
Sunk into herself.

Vast wedding mirror at her back,
Reflecting a room’s baroque memories.

‘Beautiful house’ I said,
‘The dervish life’ she replied.

At first
Their pretentiousness,
Might irritate and frustrate,
But what else can they do?

To see that other’s faults
Are my own gaps and failings,
From a place of generosity,
Is not something to brag about.