A Sunday morning and me on the settee,
With perfect meal of juice and spaghetti.
But very next moment comes a sound from the street,
fragile and weak but yet overly sweet.
My curious mind prompts the feet
Consequently I rush myself to the street.
There I see a man in ripped dress,
With clumsy hair and no address.
Instantly my question arises what he does?
Listening to which this shabby man buzz
" Day and night I play my flute,
in hope of getting some money or fruit."
I wonder if he knows, it's an off day,
Misery has made his life full of stray.
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Courtesy - Google |
this one is penned beautifully... a masterpiece from your side...
ReplyDeleteThank you so much :)
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