A L M S
A donkey with stacks on its back
Takes what joy in his traipse on roads flinty
Be they sand bags or sandal planks
Earns those same hayricks, as ultimate fees
For a menial, crushing clods
What Sunshine in life, his moil can dawn
In paddy fields or for precious lodes
Rakes the same rewards of few steel coins
Mind you! The meaning of these alms
Tossed by mean masters at their thralls’ grovel
“Alive they come for one more Diem
To fill rosters at the chime of the bell”
With ample breath to toil and shrivel
But not enough to question and rebel
poem by Sathya Narayana
Added by Poetry Lover
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