Driver Survivor Poem by Vishesh Dudheria

Rising Golden ball at morning, shining through the glass,
Feels like, was driving MERC-E-class,
With every horn and signal, hoping to get a pass,
Acceleration in top gear, and memories to surpass.

People around him, are not, who can hear his silence,
Seeing him drive a WOLKS, MERC or BENZ,
Inside his heart, happy hopes to tune sometime,
Even while driving, he may happen to commit a crime.

Whether a fresh day or weird night, he pops up, when tuned like an FM,
Has to work accurately form AM to PM,
With people by side, and on back to order,
At all events, just to drive and feed on fodder.

Plain highways to cracking hills, endless journey he has to make,
With keys and fuel inside, as his bosses awake,
Just for the daily bread, and one's life to drive,
It's a man, and his WILL to survive.

No one to read his eyes, life's journey goes on,
He wants to stand, before his days are gone,
And feel those sweet charms of the Beverly hill
With his true soul, and his driving skill


LIVE YR PA$$ION
(09/12/2011)