He Is Just a Salesman
Mom, there is a man at our door
He wants to talk to you.
The man was weary
His hair was like hay
His face was wrinkled
But a pair of eyes of steel.
Mom was angry
Go play in your room son,
He is just a salesman.
Salesman, didn't I tell you never to come again?
The man said,
Mom is right son,
I sold a heart to your mom long long ago
She promised one back but never paid
Now I want to sell another for free,
She will not allow me now.
poem by Prabhakar Sarma Neog
Added by Poetry Lover
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