It Is Not Hot- The Sun - Poem by Gajanan Mishra
It is not hot- the sun
The age is going on.
It is not glorious
That I want to talk to you
My dear son, have patience
To mention right and wrong.
The door is open
And it is you to make entry
Your name often.
See I am a street driver
And I am forgetting my own language
And the nameless wind tells me
About my own identity at this time.
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