Monday, February 13, 2012

Day 44/366

The Dhobi
Surrounded by swirls of red, green and blue,
His quarters and water was grey,
Commoner than the common man,
To many a gods did he pray.

His prayers unheard,
No place to go,
Other than the next day.
He smells of wet clothes,
And bars of soap,
His life a dull shade of grey.

The dhobi's ghaat seems too far,
Because no one ever goes there.
And yet, I somehow understand his plight
For with me a sweet friendship he shared.

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