A Running Man; Fox & bitter Grapes

He is running or a limping walk?
How far he runs?
He is tired and stopped!
And how long he could wait?
Promises are like gas-balloons in the sky.
He straightens a rickety ladder and climbs the greasy steps carefully
To pluck the cluster grapes.
A run away rabies infected fox pulls the ladder and cries down;
'Life is nothing but only a fistful of bitter grapes.'

To my dear friend Jerry for his promising health and also to Max.Reif and Dennis.Joe of their lull.

*[ It's really funny and strange, still I remember what the poor street lunatic said a long time ago after seeing my crotchety palm; 'Hey! My comrade keep your toy gun aside and you are not belongs to your motherland anymore.Your natural death will occurs in a foreign land some day.]

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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