The Wayside Dancers
Never miss,
When SANDRA bar you pass,
The wayside dancers
At twilights stinking rums.
Without ways
To bear sweltering rays,
Tender hearts
Dived in to chilly liquors.
As snake charmer on his pipe plays,
The serpent sways,
So do sots, whose daily wages
Steeped in rums.
Lean wives
With sorrows maculated visages
Wait their heroes
Return as villains.
I know the sots, in muddles,
Long for returning the cradles,
As the mid sea thrown dogs
Looking for the shores.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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