Sadiqullah Khan


Now tell me my Gain


He brought alms;
My earthen pot had a Venus's image.
My grandmother to the stone mill of hand
Poured much and as much poured to her hens.
I, for my self pity, hung a rope on my door.
They would come for alms, and now they return.
My upper hand has become my lower hand.
Now tell me my gain.

Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
February 8,2013.

Submitted: Saturday, April 13, 2013
Edited: Saturday, June 07, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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