Poor Things
MY Clothes
Hangers are finding the clothes heavy
Helpless dust is adhering to gravity
Hope filled closet keeps staring at me
‘Hang on a little more’ I say, ‘Will soon come to thee.’
MY Foot Wears
Magic they long for, for the moment
Moving to adventurous places, they dream
Mask of dust is making there look filthy
‘Master, Master’ everyday they scream
Managing with hopes to soon meet the different lands
Merrily they all are trying to live in peace
Making conversations about the visited lands
‘Master, Master’ everyday they ask, ‘Time please!’
by
Kritika
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