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Sankhajit Bhattacharjee Poem 172

Scientific Research Fellow in University of Wisconsin, Milwaukee


I know a dog lover.

She pays no heed to the agony of her neighbor.

She feeds milk to her doggy son,

but here babies cry daily for food at morn.

At noon she sleeps with him on a soft bed,

but here children live like dead.

She takes him for evening walk,

but here teens become tired at dusk.

She plays with him at night,

but here adults struggle for right.

She dresses him with woolen clothes in winter,

but here aged ones do shiver.

One day the doggy bit a beggar on his knee,

she uttered the words: “ So sorry”,

the poor is now half mad.

The mother and son remain ever glad.

© 2021 Sankhajit Bhattacharjee

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