Still You Sing At the Foot Bridge

At the Footbridge he used to sing, Whenever I pass, my heart will swing, Never heard such a sweet voice, That made me not attracted to any other boys, Every morning and evening I used to drop one, And wonder whether he is a poor man’s son, His grubby shirt and mucky pant, Always begging for a grant, His hair was curled to dirty brown, But I always dreamt him like a king with crown, No thoughts without him, He is the hero of my beautiful film, May be a beggar at the Foot Bridge, But he made me beg for his heart’s smidge, My sympathy turned to a blind love, Whatever people think he is my life now, At the foot bridge with full josh and joy, So many butterflies and flowers to enjoy With a greeting card and rose I went, And searched for my man’s foot print, So many fans standing around, Not for his song but his body in ground, I kept my rose at his feet, Let his soul rest in peace, Days rolled and months passed, At the foot bridge I always forecast, Every morning and evening I used to drop one, For my love still sings though there is none. 18 July, 2016 At the foot bridge contest Sponsor: Julia ward