I only recognize and know him from behind,
To me ignorant rather too careless too unkind,
Who wastes his time, writing poems playing chess,
Writes worthless poems and defeated in games,
Who is called by others with many funny names,
May be old and futile an annoying mess,
Who is at all not needed by a friend or a foe!
What of life even death has nothing but a toe!
When he asks Him for two yards of land,
Silently He smiles says wait for the rand,
He does not understand His smile and rand,
Remains engaged in ifs and buts and and,
Narrates love tails of his youth that are lies,
Could not move on earth but claims the skies,
I don’t know where he is and in what disguise,
If you know him, send a pen picture but precise,
I shall say I love you shall not wait for the fate,
I know his response will be nothing but hate.
At least his hate won’t result in tears,
But the hate, whom I loved, nears and dears!