Folk thought he dreaming of her was quite funny. Mates saw him working overtime just for her sight,
His mother noticed his eyes wide open every night.
In this world's eyes, the boy wasn't capable of loving.
His income they said, couldn't buy her a living.
Getting noticed would need good threads he guessed,
the diners next day, saw him richly dressed.
For three years he only stared at his dream,
Then it was the time he said, to live it free.
His feet shivered, lips quivered,
he somehow stood before her, she was bewildered.
“Speak up” she commanded and he broke with fear.
Seldom he knew, from years even she hid her tears.
Smiling at him lovingly, she made him comfortable,
instead of speaking, the poor guy went feeble.
Days passed, no courage he could gather.
He knew, every sweet girl has a rude father.
The day he was afraid of, once dawned.
Her father got to know, who's the frog in the pond.
He was summoned by the boss,
assured he was, his head would be tossed.
The strict man showed him his position,
telling him the fact that poor exist all over the nation.
The mad lover smiled, uttered some words,
he said, love doesn't mind status, it's absurd.
Enraged, the man sent for his daughter,
the atmosphere in there, turned hotter.
The girl on hearing it, acted prejudiced,
Ordered the guards to trash him with the mice.
The boy's confidence and faith vanished,
he inferred love to be rubbish.
A scraper and blue skies were in the scene.
He wanted to jump and never be seen.
He bid farewell to his mother and proceeded,
the very next moment, he was dead.
The street got jammed with crowd around the body,
and the girl's funeral being carried, followed by Audi's.
The story which never began, ended in cold blood,
again a sacrifice got mixed with the mud.
The girl's diary pages had a lot to say,
apologizing for his insult, which she by dying did pay.
She wrote regrets for lying to him earlier,
if she'd admitted, her father would've sent him forever.
I wonder why the people built sharp fences.
Love due to them, always becomes the victim of differences.
Sagher
