Poor Lady Poem by Naveed Akram

About the poor, one couldn’t laugh,
Poverty is not profound, it looks ordinary.
A voice is emitted, with business of family,
Why don’t you look at somebody?

How delightful a woman in purple dress!
The voice of an angel that electrifies,
The middle road of the desert, sown by the Lord,
And the archangel of distress, fixing one’s anxiety.

Lying on the sofa, a soap has been eventful,
With the open desire of a woman, the big thought.
There is snobbery, was her thought, but bigger
Thoughts are illegal since the events stop.

This woman is in a dress so dimmed by the lights off,
The sleep means something has happened,
The conversation meets an end before begun,
I am a poor young man of this world called Earth.