Sane Poor Man
I used to having a lot of heat
While at rest or moving, I thought
I could be rich just by selling it in
the market bereft of good poetry
I was restless and the temperature
was rising, I sat down to count the
would be money in my bank account
suddenly I found my fever had gone.
Relieved but felt very jittery as I could
not change my destiny. What a pity! It was
all the forgetting to blame though today
I am not a rich one but very lucky as I
Successfully avoided to become a mad man.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Added by Poetry Lover
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