I can't see anything <br />without spectacles. <br />Luring eyes get vexed <br />not being responded by my eyes. <br />The child-carrying anaemic mother <br />or the shivering octogenarian <br />travelling in buses as standees, <br />eyeing me up to receive my seat, <br />are not looked at all by my eyes. <br />Specks of dust cover my glasses <br />when chain-snatchers or those <br />who scare public peace bustle around. <br />As my eyes fail to greet <br />Known people on the road <br />They think of me as being proud. <br /> <br />But a fifty rupee note on the walk way <br />before the busy market <br />made a clear image in my shifting eyes. <br />I looked around and picked it up. <br />I liked to hand it over to a shopkeeper <br />for to be return to that loser later. <br />But the business people are sharks <br />giving bogus bills in bits of papers, <br />evading tax and exchanging fake notes. <br />And so I waited there for ten minutes, <br />with my eyes feigning search for the philanthropist. <br />Alas! Fifty rupee has gone down to the value of fifty paise. <br />Nobody turned up to claim it. <br /> <br />I am not brought up in a way to give it to charity, <br />or to a beggar and to donate it to the temple. <br />Is it a thousand rupee note <br />to pass it on to the police? <br />So I pushed it into my pocket <br />looking around if anybody watching. <br />Very good eyes I have <br />which I won't donate even after my death. <br /> ------------<br /><br />rajendran muthiah<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-sparkling-eyes/
