When in Spain it's such a pain
Can't order food online
The distances are far apart
Meals don't reach home on time
I slog, I chop and cook each morsel
Before I munch. It's a crime
The food in Spain is oh-so bland
Cold meat or chicken fried
India is the place to be
On lazy days,when sublime
I stretch my limbs and might lay still
Yet the cooked food is served on time
I write when my muse play tricks on me hiding behind the tunes of adversity. A simple thing such as smile or touch, anger or quote, music or hum,it sets my world rolling into a ball of perfumed poetry
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| I could Be A Poet, er..Am I? |
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| The Keys to My Heart |
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yeh, you are right. politicians were robbing india and we still relax!
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