Treasure Island

veeraiyah subbulakshmi

The Needs Of A Needy

The coin sound in our brain and mind,
The smell of fresh notes delectable and sort,
The swiping and the delivery from the slot,
The warning of what is left to behold.

The endless journey for papers while alive,
The never satisfied boxes want the refill,
The heart is so small and compact,
But beats as the cloudy thunder bolt.

Though the fragrance is replaced and it smells,
Though the crispiness is gone and it is crumbled,
Though it is devalued and stands as the paupers,
The love for it can’t be eroded from the troopers.

We can get whatever we like from the world of material,
Bands can be with us in our private home to entertain and enthrall,
The pen drives save the light and sound in the grooves,
The clink of coins in our mind never stops.

Submitted: Saturday, March 01, 2014
Edited: Wednesday, March 05, 2014

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