He is firewood for his family,
To feed paddy for his baby birds.
It is half exhausted life,
Mix of medicine with sweet milk.
Circumstances circles him,
Drags him to stormy lights and dark nights.
Life hurls its magic at him,
It gives tears of joy and sorrow at a time.
It is regular but royal routine to him,
Eating, drinking, dreaming and begetting.
He never who never retires,
Makes a ladder of progressing thoughts.
He carves to be a celebrity,
He toils to make this land to wonderland,
He
makes big shots to bend and bow.
© Kranthi Kiran Ale
16/11/2015
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