MUSEUM- 1


An old man on a hot summer noon

In front of a big iron gate

Bent with the burden of his years

Shading his eyes with bony palms from the silver sunlight

Now and then limping to open the gate

When cars horn at the gate showing impatience

How long he has to pull and push the gate!

What he thinks about fate?

Hungry stomachs dare him brave the sun and shower

He is there in front of us without any cover

Common piece of wonder in our human museum.

Sitting on dusty path by the road side

Greeting everyone with folded hands

Asking them a coin to quench her hunger

Her mouth went dry

Her tears dried long ago

I fear about her relatives

Appetites made man a heap of rotten bones

No home for these people

No room in our hearts

Even we empty our pockets full of coins

No solution to their groans

They have seasoned their passions

We in our oceans of commitments

Rarely think of them

Barely throw a cause for their distress

Otherwise we will reel under stress

—–


P. Gopichnad & P. Nagasuseela

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