The sanctuary at home under the heavy pile
of dust-covered books in shelves,
neatly dovetailed along the library archives;
where once, they say, there used to be the corridor,
and a school-going child carries the satchel
on his back with tender limbs,
that I, too, find in some measure his only sport,
the world around him bears amiss
from what to his unconcerned eye,
pigeonholed through the sky,
each day brings him down to the rabbit holes!
probably their spilled beans all o'er the place;
else beside the window exactly where the bed is,
behind rose-coloured glasses, our Professor,
the most esteemed philosopher of the progressive age,
still absorbed in grammar of the people:
The Great Mentor, e'eryone seems to have seen before,
gradually starts to emerge from the sentence structure,
all in gentle grace by worthier pen to prove thee virtuous.
(C) Naveed Khalid
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All Rights Reserved.
Date Created: Sunday, March 09,2014 2: 04: 07 PM