Looking Glasses Poem by Sk. Nurul Huda

my intimate friend told me the story
I laughed and paused as it was a tale of merry:

'it was about two pm
I am out of meal though a man of fame
I get a chance to enter into a restaurant
where occurs the miracle-

everyone I find is eating by left hand
I do not change but take the seat in a corner
any how I manage to sit showing them back
at the end I go to wash my hands at the basin
and I start to set the style of my hair
what?
am I using my left hand?
oh! it is the looking glass!
mine is the fault…

Oh! The poor customers! My poor eating friends! '

he finished his.