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An old lady and her milk can


An old lady and her milk can breaks the dawn Traversing the topsy turvy curves with muscles and brawn Tired and hopeful she rests for a while at the crossroad Moves to the town by carrying her load Her shuddering hands with the tattered clothes tells a sad story About the struggle and hardships to survive with the misery What she delivers turns out to be nectar so enrich Untold stories behind this deed to feed the rich Down and out she walks back down to rustic Who can understand her feelings so caustic? Many responsibilities to shed on her shoulder Arranging feeds and forages to keep on the udder. Moves ahead gloating to forest with a scythe Green grass and fodder nowhere in sight Rapid industrialisations made it barren and ungrazed Misfortunes and miseries rolled in and fazed. Thatched rooftops pouring out the rain Another day wasted to clean and drain Poor animal shivering with fever Tired to lactate and unable to deliver Whom to tell about this plight? Busy with her challenges and the fight An old lady with her milk can has an umpteen stories to tell Still she walks miles and miles to serve this ambrosia and dwell.

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