Beads of Sweat
The sweat beads sparkle on her fair forehead
She is selling fish in her black sari
A little money for her daily bread
In the black slum she lives in a shanty
While she cleans and slices into pieces
Sweat drops shine like pearls of toil on her cheek
All blinds the windows in joy unleashes
To feel the guitar in its raw music
The knife suddenly grazes her finger
Drops of blood blending with that of fishes
She laughs and sucks the cut skin, we linger
Until her dressing job she finishes
Humming a tune I returned home unclogged
Three red roses in my room get unlocked
August 6, 2017
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017
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