Search This Blog

Friday, 22 April 2016

Divine milkseller

Waylaid sitting on a wooden plank

Selling milk in morning brightened

With smile divine

Often confronted on my way

Ruffled hairs gone grey

Wrinkles allover twinkle in eyes
Tremble or fumble

Never she jumbled


Blessed I feel of blissful sight

Though I never bought or ever stopped

For a drop of milk which she sold

Still the divine presence of her

Flocked my thoughts

Sitting on a wooden plank

Grace every morning  with a smile

Poem about a sight of  an old lady, whom I often saw , while coming to office. Selling milk, every morning with a smile and grace. Aura of  her blissful presence is divine.