**reapers Of The Past Poem by Sadiqullah Khan

The days of the year into nights
The evenings into solace for burdens
Long days when reapers would cut gold
On earth and tilling the land with horse
Waiting for the season the damsels
Lovers would long to reap their fruit
One day reddened by sun the earth
The trees giving cold shelter
Sweat flowing down the bosom
In sweet aroma with nature
From the earthen pot when drank
Water from deep the well of love
Desires were raw with shine in eyes
Emotions were not put in fire to mould
The human habitation perhaps needs
No learning further than the one
With drawn swords the men
Women’s wrath for the young
Money is the other name of god
Some worldly comforts at least
The self contained economy
In the village now seek
Capital in surplus for the class
The struggle is for the machine
Shiny houses of bricks gaudy
The respectable ladies now hide
Reapers of the past in freedom
Now captive of the present in wealth
20/4/2009