Allah Bakhas

When night comes, we go to see grand mum.
And ask for a story, Grand Ma explains happily.
Allah Bakhas was only a butcher in my village,
He was friend of brothers and we also knew him.

One day his shop was closed, nobody met him,
The next morning, every one saw his pale face.
He was frightened and telling his story to them,
They were going to know the reason of closing.

Yesterday, when I went to open my shop, and
Goat laughed at me, he asked me to set on him,
As I sat, he flew away and dropped me on a desert,
Ten fairy queens came and sucked my blood.

They sucked my fingers as we chew sweets.
After his death, a person came and told us. How 
He would worry about his name, I suggested,
Explain them strange, they‘ll believe you as in God.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2005

Poem

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