No not fair.
It has to be more than that.
What do $25 buy?
Perhaps a coke, some burgers.
Hot dogs?
Yes in India they would buy more.
Perhaps 10 square meals.
Money and needs do not make nice poetry.
Perhaps shoddy, fudged, accounts sheet.
Errors, scratches, ink blotches
A dollar and 50 cents less.
I don't care,
Sitting like a dead rock on the wayside,
Of that bus stop
Hoping you shall return,
Like a poem I lost when she was about to reveal.
Hardik Vaidya, the blade of your pen is sharp, and this makes your poetry a daring venture, a good poem and a witty poet's note...nobody knows the worth of our work if we ourselves don't realize that...an enjoyable read about the sanctity of the genre of expression!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a lovely piece of your mind poet that I understand and share.