The Poor Street Singer In A Red Cap Poem by nimal dunuhinga
The Poor Street Singer In A Red Cap
They call me by the name of stink.
Though I have a primrose in my holey red cap.
I strum my old guitar with few strings.
Passer-by! Please wait for a while
As I have a good news for you.
And I sing with an occasional smile,
If it's not a dream then I'll be a millionaire in few days
As I ought to sign a contract for his new advertisement
Who's a prominent perfume maker in the paradise.
A compelling word portrait. In the gallery of your mind, you have created many. Write on, my prolific friend. Kind regards, Sandra
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4/30/2024 10:36:19 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Irony winks from your sad words, Nimal. Your poor street singer is portrayed with sensitivity and skill in this memorable portrait. Love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥