The Song Of The Labour

The song of labour

The blow of the hammer

Exploding on the wall

Dust, mud ,rubble flying

Coating one and all.

On pretext of pollution

Allergy and suffocation

Or suffering in reality

We all flee away

From such pandemonium.

Oblivious to all this,

works the labourer;

using all his might

striking the wall.

Let's himself coat

Or suffers a bruise

With dust -n- noise fusion.

Happily adjusting the earplugs on

lending ear to music played on

hammer, chisel, melody, all in unison

Then work is no ordeal

Is a Simphony

Of a song.

Continuing

Silently

singly

and

candidly.

Kiren Babal

6.9.2014