Living on margin he was deceived again.
A grasshopper was perched on door
shedding green pigment.
Granary was empty and he was,
worried about the health of nation.
Glare and splendor always hurt his eyes.
In the name of prosperity, leftovers
set the dirty houses apart
from polished faces.
He was again afraid of interior –
bursting with statements of elegance,
releasing the bald answers to nettled questions.
The stench was glorified discreetly,
giving a pause to sorrow.
Who was destroying the sweetness?
Satish Verma