The Roads Poem by Md. Ziaul Haque

So mystifying the roads are yet so familiar,
Acting as the dumb leaders of every unknown traveller.

Some are narrow, others don't mind galloping space,
Those lying alongside seem busy in endless race,
But one thing is certain, they don't ever get lost,
One does maintain connection with another at any cost.

They remind us of our past, present and future,
Working as a gateway for the unique elements of culture,
When they fall sick we mend them with care,
But some of the reckless are to be found, it's not rare.

The roads furnish human civilisation the wings to fly,
Crawl like anacondas, let us know the lands low and high,
Persistently work as bliss for the poor and the rich alike,
Sending their rivals on a reluctant hike.

Forster stopped being hesitant which road to take,
Yet no road ever remains untaken even if it looks fake,
Like lives roads expire but the latter can savour reincarnation,
And get ready to travel tirelessly from nation to nation.

May the roads' charity gift us freeways with no hostility,
The product to be transported is Shakespearean humanity.