Calling all poets. Submissins are open for Wingword Poetry Competition!

My father is a farmer

Khushi Khandelwal

The aliment garnished on your platter
Planted through the hands of my father
The seeds are placed on the surface of soil
nourished like a new born person

Days goes about with a gaze at the sky
With a hope that clime turns out suitable
Open arms previous to setting out to the field
Embraces me through a toss-up in the air

No stew stuck about the appearance
Labours day and night clad in same dhoti
No wish to get along with the latest trends
Toils around to feed his family bellyful roti

Sweats blood in the scorching sunlight
Contentment placed hidden among the field
Joy comes into sight through the rainfall
Dreams amid the fall to fill the family needs

No desire to touch the infinite sky
Desires to market the cultivated crops
No fancy to own a nice shirt and a tie
Wishes to satiate basic needs not fame

Toils to bring back light in the home
To purchase a fan and a gas stove
Ma collects woods from nearby to make food
Wishes to sway away the cloud of smoke

Faith is the root to meet the dreams
Expectations satiated through field work
Reaches a tiny pleasure to his comfort
Fine price from crops leaves a small smirk

Sleeps beneath the carpet of stars above head
Eyes shines bright like a twinkling stars
Slumbers holding faith in the soft heart
Peep in closer the fortune appears not so far

A blessing bestowed on his head
Brought a gas stove on way back home
Ma shed tears of joy
Clasped her with a promise to touch the sky

The cloud of smoke never again smog the vision
Cultivated the notion of practical agriculture
Equipment purchased to ease the work
Dreams actualized with proper exertion

The warmth he delivers through the crops
No soul acquaints with that affection
I am a child of the tender-hearted father
Proud to voice that my father is a farmer

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