A Friend Who Lost His Keys Poem by Samujjwal Dey

Urban life, a busy street
Cars honk their horns.
The air here, might not have oxygen
For they are in cylinders now.
Once a field is now a steel farm.
Growing silvery crops.
In the broken frame, is a forgotten picture;
An old couple on a bench.
The phone, too busy asking quotations-
Never cared to answer or call back.
But one night, my drunken friend lost his keys!
For a door never his own.
Sleeping out in the cold,
Came back the smell of his blanket.
The phone now free and on.
The lost keys brought a smile,
On the other side of the phone;
Known voices reach his ear.
A home now only in dreams,
Became visible through the phone.
Calling him back home.
Next morning expected, to see a phone,
Thrown in the garbage truck.
But the poor phone, found its place
On a desk with dead files aside.