Touch me not!
Have you ever seen the freshly pressed flowers,
Crumbled in the crowded buses of the third world?
Catching and traveling in a bus is a task, not worth,
To spend at least few hours on the dusty roads,
For a few kilometer ride to their purposeful target,
Where they are pressed with all kinds of weapons kept,
In the trousers, held in the hands and on the bodies,
Of the estrogen seeking cowards, who travel,
In the buses to get the cheap pleasure and delight,
Out of the innocence of our young girls and women going to school,
Colleges and work, even the elderly women not spared,
For the scent that remained, O God, Do you see us suffer,
On the roads of poverty stricken countries? Please offer,
The space as we need to do our daily chores,
Teach and correct them that molesting is bad and dire.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
Added by Poetry Lover
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