Humble (the morning poem)

10- Oct- 2009, 8:34am


As the first yellow ray
of sunshine
glimmers on a strand
of a golden straw of a thatched house,
a new born baby yawns
to new born day,
as the first wisp of smoke
from a mud house
makes its way to join the clouds,
as a mother and wife
rattles pots and pans
to feed her family.
As a proud man wakes up
to nurse his blisters in hands
and washes himself up in
a sputtering tap,
I write this poem for you.



chirag Bangdel