Prose In A Poem Poem by PARTHA SARATHI PAUL

At the closing of an year
we ponder over our domestic ledger;
all past oaths of economical management
failed in the very mid way and the balance
of two columns tilts very anxiously.
Needs grow with years often like wild creepers:
two hands are full with work
but wallet has an insatiable appetite- -
homely concerns work as strong appetizer.
We go through such tides
every year and year after year;
we carry the symptoms of ever middle class.