My companion

Not much has changed, except

I can't see my reflections in the mirror

I shouldn't complain

When 'ooperwala' takes away a prized possession

He compensates it by giving something more prized

I can't read, but what is read to me

I understand more clearly and more deeply

Deficiencies are compensated

If available is a good compensator

As if I lost my leg in an accident

And I am supported by a wooden leg

Wood, I find, no longer 'woody'

Artificiality melts away

Wood becomes a part of me

I can’t see but I can see

Through the eyes of my companion

I feel guilty to use my companion, as my extension

How can I forget she is not 'wood'

My companion asks me

If a material can be an extension of a living

Why can't a living extension

Be the extension of a companion