The Palmist Poem by medhini chandran

The palmist

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In my good old days,
I earned my bread and butter;
By reading the palms of the passers -by
Instead of begging alms and doing nothing.

As the days passed by
I learned to quit;
The age old profession, no frittering away;
Due to daily forecast in various media.

Then I became a lottery ticket seller
Selling tickets in day and night altogether;
In hot, chilly and calm weather.

As the seller of various state lottery tickets
One day, I had to end up, due to the ban
Through an ordinance-this ruined my luck again.

I wandered on the roads and streets,
Seeking a simple job in a corner:
Everyone turned me out, saying-
"No vacancy" and no suitable job found out.

I fervently prayed to god
And vigorously sought hard.
Three months passed and
I heard the news, on a fine morning,
No more ban, on sale of lottery tickets.
Hesitantly, I carried the bag on my shoulder
In search of my fortune, once more.



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