The One With Crows Poem by Shourav Pednekar

I gave an old lady a plate of food
And submitted my glory to the papers.
I wondered if I had done my bit of good
When I saw her inviting the crows.

She made a peculiar sound to which the birds responded
And shared with them some of what I had handed.

The lady and her battalion munched uninhibited
While I kept a watch quietly fascinated.

And I wondered,
Surely there must be a journalist crow,
Who, being wise, would've raised a brow;
And reported the news having witnessed the scene,
Alerting the world of this alien queen.

But no flowers fell and the coronation never was,
The imagined trumpets were a few harsh caws.
And the only coverage the woman ever had
Was a casual glance from a passing lad.

I clucked my tongue and clicked my teeth,
The whole episode being kinda' sad.
But the next day, all sadness was bequeathed
As I read about my glory in the papers.