A Needle, Not Scissors Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

A tale as goes of a tailor,
Straight, simple as his noble soul,
In life's ocean a skilled sailor,
Searching hallowed path his life's goal.

A king when came to pay homage,
Gave a pair of scissors of gold
That left the sage sober and cold,
He did his job but sought no wage.

He thanked the king, declining still,
Fine, but what else may I give you?
Nothing sir, if ye feel no ill,
If must, give a needle in lieu.

Scissors diminish and divide,
A needle sews together things,
Torn up pieces closer it brings,
And scissors may give me false pride.
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Reflections | 03.05.08 |