To Drink I Make

I was born there in a naive village now this is my city I walk on the city path now I walk by the royal path like the mouth of a hungry child there suddenly the piece of onion shows me the path of cost living I'm in the bed-sheet of sleeping child the biting cold of winter drives me to a winter cake dogs are very happy with the street fire barking they are very much in the cold of the night withered mouth feels grief no food for the hungry belly the light of lamppost in the tempest speaks with twinkling stars daily no dream, no desire I have I walk and observe my life moon speaks with her beloved and makes the dragonfly her dove no caravansary is near to my walking path no hard drinks I have walking path is very long rightly I think I need to drink I buy the letters, the words, the sentences by my whimsical thoughtful press to drink I make by these all some poetry everyday surely I pursue the life of dignity! -December 10, 2019 Chattogram