The Wreath. Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

An adventurous man, my good friend
Where his service always offered
In moments of emergency people call him
In moments of joy people forgets him
He never boasts his result in public
But keeps his perfect health as asset
The asset of health a real wealth of us
But people seldom remembers in happiness
This adventurous man an ordinary labor
Where he found is rice and living
A dwelling house never he owned
A big space of sky he always looked
The platform that he built in his might
A big mango tree saved from fall
There he slept in nights without fear
The perched birds looked him in thanks
A protector of birds always he was
A humble man of valued character
He missed a family life in years
No one bothered to get him married
Whenever a death occur in village
His service was available for funeral
He makes all ready the funeral pyre
But never cries or shows the sad of death
After finishing the service he disappears
A perfect human being we exclaimed
Still we seldom remember the man of need
But always he offered his service to us
When ever there a feast is in homes
He came as a non invitee to serve the guests
No one bothered to ask where he ate
The delicious food that came in balance
Slowly walks from the home after a drink
The pure drinking water he takes from home
We exclaimed a good human being my friend
But no one bothered to get him married
And tried to make a home for this man
In a heavy rainy day we learnt in village
The man is dead in a lightning shock
We learned his qualities in the time
Where we offered a single wreath for the man.