Treasure Island

ijlal haider


A child's treasure


A little child who randomly pry

keeping the land on his thigh,

to find the buried treasure

tinkle -tinkle, metal pleasure.

Mother lures him to come inside

sweets and some penny besides,

but small hands have big ambition

a man with a rich mission.

He works like a newbie in coal mine

with a hope to get the diamond shine;

dirty clothes goes dirtier

focused, unlike the one, whiner.

Tough job tires him

lunch time under the tree limb;

the tree welcomes the guest, giving mango pleasure,

now, the child got the child's treasure

Submitted: Wednesday, February 15, 2012

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  • Dave Walker (2/15/2012 3:49:00 PM)

    A really great poem, like it. A great write.
    May i invite you to read my new poem called,
    In The Words Of Bluesman Jack. (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »

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