Like a set of graded kitchen pans
the newsagent's children,
back from school, file into the tiny corner shop,
and all so small, this neat, obedient, clean set,
that no-one needed lift the counter flap.
And in a moment's flash of truth, or sentiment,
I saw the beauty of the human race.
Hey, Whizzkin, don't jump to conclusions! 'Indian file' comes from First Americans, the others are Hindu Indians. Joke. Potential racism in your mind not mine. Now wash your mouth out...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I saw no racism, I saw a pretty vignette of life and a celebration of a culture