There are three kinds of people
At noon in a summer season,
Used to be out with a reason,
Troops of boy, all elder to me,
In an orchard, with them, I used to be,
Caring their mangos with many kinds,
So many boys so many minds.
Long gone the year, I lost my childhood.
Yet, I remember, with pretty good,
Reference from that event, I concluded,
There are three kinds of people, included,
One who climbed up the tree, and
Second stoned to the mango, and
The third sat under the tree with a hope.
Thing that lured at that time, a joyful cup
I always stood with them, who climbed up..
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Comments about this poem (There are three kinds of people by Aftab Alam )
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