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THE SHIRT
I vaguely remember the day
I was hardly seven
or may be eight,
there was celebration in the house
my father had bought me shirt.
I was told
that it shall last me a life time.
Year after year
I kept growing
at an unusual fast pace.
The size f the shirt remained
very much the same.
A Day came
when it became suffocation.
I took the shirt off
and walked away.
I wandered from place to place
from country to country.
On the way
many people called me shameless,
and laughed at my bare shoulders.
There were some good days too.
During spring seasons
I found flowers to cover my body;
some for a while
and some for a bit longer.
Today,
in the middle of the a night
if I feel a flower turning into a shirt
I wake up and start walking again
bare shoulders in the open.
Is it true
that these flowers
deep down
have a desire
to be shirt?
(IRONBRIDGE 1987)
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