Myopia
I was startled to hear him scream "butterflies" at first, Then, I felt bad for him for two reasons. First, the obvious absence of the creature around the neck. Here, all we could see were the cloth lines that bore colored clips. The barrenness and the voids of the concrete woods Made the place wholesome here. Second, the obvious presence of an imperfection That you perceive the world beautiful. I can be the right person to talk about this, Because, I see "butterflies" too. And I see more. I see everything clean, neat, and pretty, Everything far, misty, and romantic, and Every person, a character from a fairytale, Until they come near asking "what's up?" I stare and stare and stare, Yet unnotice the signboard that says, "Dead-end". Long back in our village, I never threw a stone for a mango North did I search for a cuckoo. I never got wet in the rain And many of my smiles have gone vain. Now it's him. He could inherit nothing better than...