All that I desire
is not destined to me
As I sit beside the fire
I think out loud to me
Oh! What life it could have been
If whenever I would have been seen
In public places, they would have requested
my autograph, to pass on, as they rested
In tombs, it would be with their kids safely locked in.
Suddenly,I got roused of my daydreaming
I can hear my master, there,screaming
The toasts for the guests are burnt to crisp,
The visitors are murmuring to let me go
But what is going to be with me, I know
They would thrash me mercilessly over
Those burnt pieces of toasts.
Nandini Datta
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