My Handkerchief Poem by Ravinder Kumar Soni

My white handkerchief,
Freshly washed and ironed
Was on the table waiting for me to pick it up,
It softly reminded -
‘Do not forget to pick me up
As you go visiting your friends.'
I will I said combing my hairs;
I had a dinner engagement with Madan Lal, the stockbroker,
And it was time for me to leave my place.
I pocketed the handkerchief
Gunned the car-engine to accelerate,
It did not start, my car of twenty years;
I opened the bonnet, cleaned the sparkplugs,
And restarted, by then I had dirtied my hands,
And also the steering-wheel,
I cleaned up using the same handkerchief.
The dinner was sumptuous and relished,
But a great deal greasy,
My handkerchief overused was black and oily by now,
Unfit to wipe my face, I threw it away.
At that moment I heard a voice -
‘You have discarded a sincere friend,
It could have served you longer.'
Realizing my mistake, I retrieved my handkerchief.