31 August 2008

Poverty

I walk away from you
I run.
I have no desire for you
And you are not listed in my plans.

You stare at me
I look right back at you.
You walk down the road
I wipe away the dust.
You knock at my door
I close them on you.

I bolt my windows too.

I bake bread
And drink water from the well
I collect wood and kindle fire
I build a home.

You try to haunt me,
Many atime you called me
But I turned a deaf ear.

I caught you peeping in the mirror
I turned around
But you ran terrified

The sun rose
And my spirits lifted higher
I picked up the flowers and the leaves
I collected opportunities
And I brought home happiness

I walk to work
With a spring in my step.
I hear whispers of joy.

Now you shy away from me,
And from the light.
Into the darkness you disappear.

3 comments:

Vinod_Sharma said...

Nice, nice, Anrosh. Greta words.

"And I close my doors on you" ....

"And I close my windows too"... does this convey your meaning a bit more purposefully?

Anrosh said...

Thanks vinod. ..corrected.

Sagar said...

I like this poem. Thank you for dropping by. :)

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