Under an umbrella,
Sits a quiet boy,
At the edge of the
Busy road,
Selling multi- colours,
Of Holi,
On a hot
March afternoon,
Unable to use the
Tempting colours,
For himself/friends,
The child waits eagerly,
For indifferent clients;
If the big-eyed boy,
In a torn shirt,
Does not sell
The assorted colours off,
And brings some cash for the
Starving family,
He will
Not be able to
Play this Holi.
3 thoughts on “Fest of colours”
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Good poem Sunil, loved it
bring would do I guess, not brings
Thanks Koshy for your encouraging words.
The subject is he in the referred line, not colours; the he is not mentioned again to avoid repetition. Hence, brings.
Thanks for your suggestion.
Comments earlier on Apsara. Did you see that?
heartbreaking as well as infuriating….