Smoke...
Smoke...
Fidget in madness
Narrow chimneys hurriedly it past...
From humble kitchens with its errands
Bakes the dough, sustenance of hunger...
In ovens of clay and straw, air strokes the dying coals, she lingers there too...
Master's will have it, bread is served...
Unto plates of rough palms, rough with their toil...
Over a meek shining shilling, in pocket...
She shall hover, through their chimneys...to the sky...
poem by Lama Abbas
Added by Poetry Lover
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