Daniel Trevelyn Joseph (21 December 1945 / Mumbai, India)
I come down the lift, and walk to my car
Washed and parked inside the compound.
Driver sees me, and slowly walks to open
Dicky and take out water for him to drink
Contrasting with Rakesh the driver in Delhi:
The moment he saw me, he would run, before I sit
He'd start the car, and get moving:
For him, my time was precious, important,
Not like here - I am retired, and can wait.
Is that what it is, or am I uber-sensitive?
Comments about this poem (Perception by Daniel Trevelyn Joseph )
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