Her Ten Minutes

Written by: FABIYAS M V

Her ten minutes sneak
Through the hole of an iron needle
In the hand of a cobbler,
Who sits like a spider
At a nook of the city.

She is broken on her shoes ;
‘Wait’, his word stumbles over rum stink.
Passers by give her tribute
With their glances ; and the beauty
Blushes under the hot sun.

She stoops her proud head ,
Which sways intermittently
Towards the east and the west ,
To check if some acquaintance
Is dropping a belittling eye.

For Miss Seena is rich and noble ,
But with a little money.