Poem of An Indian

One determined night sitting down to write a poetry... I could only think of the creaky wooden chair and the acidic itching in my stomach, I tried to close my eyes and conjure up a gold papered vision,but the only available picture was of an obliging colleague,paper mounts,ink spills,one rupee tea,unwashed lunch boxes,unpaid bills,nagging headaches,fighting for seats,hot sleepy afternoons,sterline evenings,endless grey staircase,tired wating room and sweaty clothes, I got up!! could'nt any way write poetry as now...i caught my self living it.....